The Hope Trilogy (A Superman Fanfiction)
by chellethewriter
Summary: Lois Lane is a cynical, internationally recognized reporter. Clark Kent is an optimistic farmboy hiding extraterrestrial origins. When their destinies intersect, their lives (and the world) will be forever changed. In this three book trilogy, follow Lois and Clark as they use reporting and crimefighting to stop Lex Luthor and other villains! Slow-burn Clois AU. Updated weekly!
1. Prologue - Day of Change

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. DC OWNS EVERYTHING.**

**A/N:**

**Hello! I know that I have another fanfic that I need to finish, and everyone who's reading that probably hates me for starting a new one when the other one has been left at a cliffhanger...but I couldn't resist writing this. **

**There is a despicable, unacceptable scarcity of Clois fics on the internet. So I decided to make my own. It's an AU, I guess. It's based on the comics, Smallville, the DCAU, the Superman Movies, Man of Steel, and about a hundred other things. So just take it as a new origin story for Superman. I'll figure out a name for this universe some other time. **

**It'll be multiple chapters. However, I must warn that my updating may be quite sporadic. It could take me over a month to post a new chapter. I'm super busy, despite my intense love for writing and Clois. **

**But let us begin! Prologue! This is a VERY dark and intense chapter soo...please be warned. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.**

**Just some context: Superman has never made an official appearance at the beginning of the story. Lois is a young, twenty-something reporter at the Daily Planet who has already won her first Pulitzer. Clark Kent...well, you'll find out what he's up to. Lex Luthor is a billionaire weapons mogul. Other heroes do exist in this universe, and they MIGHT make an appearance if I find time to write a sequel. **

**(p.s. if you're wondering about Qurac and Biyala I'd consult the Young Justice wiki)**

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**Summary: A traumatic experience has since left Lois Lane in a state of hopelessness. But can a symbol of good - a Man of Steel...a Superman - restore it? And just what does her new co-worker, Clark Kent, have to do with it? Join Lois in this new, reimagined Superman origin story! **

_PROLOGUE: DAY OF CHANGE_

Lois still hasn't acclimated to the warmth. The sun beats down on her mercilessly, and she prays for a cloud at least - just to blot out the daylight for a short, blissful moment. Of course, that would barely cool the arid atmosphere that surrounds her - the air that bakes her skin and cracks her lips.

An hour ago, Tom - her inexperienced, substitute photographer - swore that these were the worst conditions he has ever experienced. Lois nearly laughed derisively. Sure, the heat was and is _still_ scorching. But investigative journalist Lois Lane has trekked through dense rainforests, climbed freezing mountains, and confronted international criminals. Heat is one thing she can definitely handle.

Not that she wishes for temperatures like these. She admits that a few clouds and a little rain would be nice - amazing, even.

Nevertheless, they continue snapping pictures and interviewing villagers, wiping away sweat and trying to forget their fatigue. They both desperately need a shower, but Lois is far too determined to stop for something as trivial as that.

Lois and Tom arrived in Qurac - a small, democratic country in the Middle East- a couple weeks ago. Their trip is certainly not a vacation. In fact, its cause is rather grim, seeing as they are investigating the massacres of several villages near the Quraci border. These heinous acts are grossly undercovered in the news, and Lois plans to change that fact through her job at the Daily Planet. By visiting Qurac, she hopes to find the culprits of the murders and bring them to justice - while incidentally making headlines along the way.

Lois suspects that mercenaries sent from Bialya - Qurac's neighboring country - are behind it all. Bialya is notorious for its belligerence, and has been trying to annex Qurac for years. It was only logical to guess that the massacres act as an ultimatum toward the Quraci government for its...lack of cooperation with Bialya.

There is no proof to support her suspicions just yet. And without proof, it would be impossible to achieve any U.N. intervention, or publish a legitimate story.

So Lois took the initiative. She told her editor about the potential of the story, and as a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, he wasn't inclined to deny her. The only real setback she faced was Jimmy Olsen's contraction of the flu, which thus left her without her favorite photographer. But she found a replacement and boarded the plane nonetheless.

Now, after a two-week road trip down the Quraci border, she has finally arrived at a small but heavily populated town. It is a welcome change, given the blood-stained, decimated villages she just visited for her story.

Here, there are children running in the streets, enjoying what the populace calls (to Lois's disbelief) "nice weather". A colorful marketplace stretches down an entire street. It is brimming with people as they trade goods, and to Lois's relief, there are many people who speak English. She has struggled with the unique Quraci language for weeks with limited success, and it feels good to use her native tongue again.

Just as she finishes interviewing a middle-aged woman about the country's relations with Bialya, Lois's cell phone begins to ring shrilly. The caller is predictable, but unavoidable. She then excuses herself, thanking the woman and telling Tom to wait for her somewhere, before walking to the outskirts of the little village, where it is much quieter.

She looks out into the nearby desert, which is an expanse of empty, sandy land. It might be beautiful to some people, but not her. Lois is accustomed to city life, not a natural, harsh setting such as thus. Besides, there simply is not enough shade, and she is forced to shield her eyes as she returns her call, seeing as it had long gone to voicemail during her uphill trek to the outskirts. But she couldn't answer it in the middle of the village...not when one considers who she is calling.

Her boyfriend - Lex Luthor. He is the billionaire CEO of a major corporation, which is not something she should mention in a town of people that are most likely suffering economically. Frankly, it's not something she should mention _anywhere_, unless she felt entirely safe. The last thing Lois wants is to held for ransom in a foreign country.

Lex picks up on the second ring, and he does not waste time with pleasantries.

"Lois? Where are you?" Lex demands. There is honking in the background, so Lois assumes that he is stuck in Metropolis traffic. But she knows that is not the reason he sounds so irritable.

There is a beat, during which she considers lying. She was supposed to fly back today, but instead she decided to stay - hoping to see the story through. Lex is probably furious. Maybe he even waited for her at the airport.

"I'm...working on my tan," she replies finally, deciding against deceit and going with playful crypticism instead.

He sighs audibly - further evidence of his irritation. He has probably guessed at her true location. "I thought you were supposed to be _leaving_ Qurac by now. It's not safe there, you know."

He always talks like this, she notices. Like he knows so much more than she does. It makes her feel small and stupid, and a part of her realizes that this trip's purpose wasn't just to pursue a story, but to escape Lex as well. It's probably why she didn't tell him that she was leaving in the first place. The only notification he received was a half-hearted email from the airport.

In truth, it is hypocritical to be so evasive around Lex simply because she dislikes his personality - especially when he and Lois share many of the same traits. They are both overly arrogant and ambitious, and talk like they know it. This behavior is probably why they were attracted to each other in the first place...why he asked her out during her first interview with him. And yes, he is charming and handsome, in his own unique way. But now that the glamor of dating a billionaire has worn off, Lois is starting to have second-thoughts about their relationship.

She'll never admit that her reluctance is _because_ of their similarities. The qualities they share are the ones that she hates most in herself, and she can't find a way to accept them in her own personality, let alone his.

But she knows she should keep trying to make it work. Her father wants it. She should want it. So she continues letting him be her ball-and-chain, and pretends to enjoy it.

"C'mon, Lex. You can't find good stories in the comfort of an office."

"How long until you leave?" he asks tersely, not even bothering to ask if she's made any progress. He never does.

Lois shrugs, feeling all too trapped in her canvas-material clothes, which make the heat all the more suffocating. "I don't know. Whenever the truth comes out, I guess."

She can almost feel him rolling his eyes. "Does danger mean nothing to you? Staying there could get you _killed_."

"Me?" she says in mock indignation. "This little army brat can take care of herself. I'm practically invincible. In fact, I'm actually offended by your lack of faith in me."

"Come home. I mean it."

"You didn't say 'please,' you jerk."

It is not uncommon for her to insult him like this. He probably thinks it is mere playfulness - a tease. But that was only true in the beginning. Now, a part of Lois actually means it. After all, he's not requesting or even asking her to come home. He is _demanding_.

Lex huffs, like it is beneath him to beg. "_Please_, Lois."

She knows it hurts his dignity to plead with her. And if he decided to do so anyway, it must mean that he cares for her a lot. That should mean something, shouldn't it?

She searches for a proper way to respond. Should she agree to come home? Perhaps. But would she really do that, even if she promises? A part of her thinks not. Maybe she should just tell him she's staying, no matter what he wants.

Lois makes up her mind, and just as she is about to speak, she hears something that completely interrupts her train of thought.

A gunshot. From the village.

"What was that?" Lex yells, alarmed, from the other end.

Concerned with other matters, she hangs up the phone and shoves it into her pocket, spinning around to find the source of the noise.

Suddenly, hundreds of gunshots fill the air, as do a chorus of frantic screams.

Before she even registers what she is doing, Lois is running toward the village, her feet kicking up plumes of desert dust behind her. Her mind is frantic and fearful, and she prays that she has gone crazy - that nothing has happened at all, and she is imagining those horrible sounds.

But she knows what's really going on. She's too cynical to hope for the best.

It is only a short, downhill distance to the center of town, and when Lois arrives, she is horrified by what she sees.

A group of men, each one armed with a machine gun, are raiding the town, shooting indiscriminately. There is a truck in the distance, obscured by airborne dust; it is presumably the transport of the attackers, given the Bialyian flag waving from its antenna.

They are not just mercenaries, she realizes. They are extremist nationalists.

She continues running, desperate to find Tom. As she sprints, she fishes her cell phone out of her pocket and snaps a photo of the truck, hoping that it will be sufficient evidence. It's blurry from distance, but it's all she can manage.

Lois then heads to the shop where she left Tom, yelling his name as she wanders. Her lungs burn from exertion, fear, dust, and heat. Meanwhile, screams drown out any coherent, calming thought she attempts to create. There is too much chaos in the Marketplace for her to think clearly, and too much danger.

The armed Bialyian men are a only a hundred yards away, and approaching fast. It seems the fearful screams from the crowded Marketplace only make it a greater target, and Lois stands smack in the middle of it.

God, she should have gone home when she had the chance. Coming here was a mistake.

But she needs to find Tom. Needs to help these people.

Lois feels unprotected, and silently curses the laws that prohibit the wielding of firearms within Qurac. It seems almost ridiculous, especially considering the danger the country consistently faces from Bialya.

More than anything, though, she curses these armed men.

Lois reaches the door of shop just as they enter the marketplace. _BABABABABUM_. A spray of bullets go off nearby, and guilt burns at the bit of her stomach - a result of her helplessness. But she does not look. All she knows is that they're not upon her...yet.

Tom is nowhere in sight, and the door of the shop is sealed. She proceeds to pound on it, continuing to yell his name as she does so.

There is no response from inside. Maybe it is better that way. They're safer in there than out here, right? Hell, maybe Tom has left the town entirely.

Lois backs away from the door, now searching desperately for a place to hide, terror like electricity in her veins. Yes, she has been in danger before...but she always had some degree of control. Protection. A gun. A harness. A piece of information to use as blackmail. Right now, she has _nothing_.

Her mind moves too frantically as she considers her options. Breaking down the door? No. She might expose people inside.

Climb up the building? No. The wall is too smooth.

There might be a cellar in the back of the shop, with an emergency exit. She could probably break in...pick the lock. Yes. That's a good plan.

Just as she is about to run behind the building, she spots a little girl across the street, hiding beneath a cart of goods. The girl's eyes are wide - terrified - and she winces as the bullets continue to fire, deafeningly close now.

Lois glances down the street, where the men are mere feet away. If she is going to run, she must do it now. There is a sharp pang in her heart as she realizes that she will not have time to drag the girl along. If she runs to her, Lois will reveal them both - and that would result in certain death.

Her heart is beating like a drum, and it throbs in her arms...her throat…her head.

_There's no time_, she thinks as the men grow ever closer, walking through the now-abandoned marketplace undeterred. Once they get close enough, they will see the little girl, and probably Lois too.

Lois can't move. Not with that little girl frozen under the cart.

As his comrades kick their way into houses, eliminating the inhabitants, a man in the group points to that same cart. He says something in Bialyian before running forward, his gun raised.

Lois is still concealed behind a little column on the shop's veranda, but the girl was seen. It was over.

Once the man gets within spitting distance, some sort of animal instinct takes over the girl, and she scrambles out from under the cart, screaming for help. The man runs a bit faster to catch up with her, his eyes level with his gun to aim properly. The weapon cocks. He is about to shoot.

Just as the girl passes her, Lois darts out from behind the column, shielding the girl with her body. The girl keeps sprinting, but yells a warning to her - telling her of danger. Lois knows, of course, but does not heed her words. She just wants to slow him down.

The man reaches Lois a few moments later, and he is taken aback by her boldness and hesitates for a good five seconds - enough time for him to forget about the girl, and focus on the target in front of him. When he begins to shoot, Lois expects it and ducks to the side, the bullets narrowly missing her. There is some timber off to her right, and she lunges at him with it in hand. Luckily, the blow makes it - smacking him in the head - and he staggers backwards before falling ungracefully to the ground.

Exhaling shakily, Lois turns and tries to run after the girl. Perhaps she will make it. Perhaps the girl will too.

Just as hope reappears, a boom echoes through the marketplace, and a bullet tears through the skin of Lois's shoulder, causing her to cry out. She ignores the pain as she keeps running, briefly looking back as she does so. It appears that the man has sat up, and that the bullet came from his gun - a gun that is now clearly out of bullets, as indicated by its inability to fire further.

But the pain in Lois's wound is distractingly excruciating, and before long she is falling - falling forever, it seems. Something caused her to trip; what it was, she'll never know.

When she lands, it is hard and face-first. The sand she topples upon is not nearly as soft as it seems. It proceeds to smash into her skull like any other blunt instrument - except these tiny rocks are sun warmed, and they _burn_.

The head injury is the worst, though. Lois can feel her mind growing foggy...going unconscious. She cannot bring herself to move, and is only vaguely aware of the blood pooling around her shoulder - a testament to the time that she is quickly losing.

Lois's face is still pressed against the ground, and a desperate part of her screams internally, implacably horrified that she is dying in darkness...that she cannot look at the sun. The same sun that was there when she went to school in Metropolis, or when she got her first job there. The same that rose when she won her first Pulitzer.

Instead, she can only look at this foreign, scorching sand. And even that fades to black.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	2. Chapter One - Hopeless

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N:**

**Sorry you guys. That was pretty intense, like I said. But it will be lighter fare from here. **

**Here's the next chapter!**

* * *

_CHAPTER ONE - HOPELESS_

_5 MONTHS LATER…METROPOLIS..._

"Well, doc, I guess it all started when I found out I was allergic to cats," Lois drawls sarcastically. Disinterest is quite evident in her voice, and is only further indicated by her posture. She stares at the tile ceiling, her body sprawled casually on the leather couch in her new therapist's office. It's the kind of ceiling schools have, she thinks. The soundproof kind.

_Maybe it's so no one hears the screams of the crazy people_, Lois jokes internally; but she doesn't dare say it aloud. This therapist woman is far too strict for her own good.

"Ms. Lane, you need to take this seriously," the Dr. Anderson reminds her with irritation, staring at her patient from across the coffee table. The woman wears her glasses on the tip of her nose, and Lois wonders if it is just to create a perception of enhanced intelligence. If anything, though, Lois thinks it looks tacky.

"It _is_ serious, doc. I love cats. But alas, it is a forbidden love."

The therapist rubs her temples. "Lois, your father tells me that you've been having nightmares, flashbacks, and paranoia. Those are _textbook_ symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder. It's not something to joke about."

Lois sits up suddenly, narrowing her eyes. Her voice is caustic when she replies.

"Lady, I was _shot_. You'd have nightmares too. But it's really not that bad - trust me."

The therapist's tone is neutral, and she begins writing on a notepad. "Perhaps. But your experiences are affecting your ability to function, are they not?."

"Please, doc," Lois groans. "I'm functioning just fine, thank you very much."

She gestures to her outfit, which consists of a spanking new pantsuit. "I'm picking out my own clothes - cute ones, at that. I do my hair in the morning. Hell, I even baked cookies last week, and I never bake."

"But do you sleep well?"

It's no use lying to this woman, of course. Anyone could see the bags under Lois's eyes, despite the makeup she has caked on to hide them. But such effects are not the result of an inability to sleep. The nightmares - those are her real problem.

Every night, she relives her experience in the village. The gunshots and the gunmen. The blood pooling around her as she lies face-down, suffocating in darkness. She even sees the things she never experienced - the men killing Tom and almost everyone in the village. Her attacker stepping over her body, believing that she is dead. The Quraci military, expectant of another attack, arriving to find that they are too late, and that only few survivors remain.

And Lois, somehow, was one of the few. She does not know if she should feel grateful. She does not know whether she deserved to live. But a hospital in Qurac was inexplicably able to revive her, so she still persists, despite expectations.

"I thought so," the therapist says quietly. "You're terrified of what happened, and that's okay. But in order for you to start functioning properly, you need to be psychologically debriefed. That's what I'm here for. That's why your father sent you here."

_Terrified_? Lois thinks. _That's all she chalks it up to? Terror? _

Suddenly, anger explodes out of her, and she stands to face Dr. Anderson directly.

"I'm not having nightmares because I'm _scared_, you idiot," Lois yells. "I'm having nightmares because children and families were murdered in cold blood, and the culprits haven't been caught! I'm having nightmares because Bialya and the weapons contractors that sold to them never faced consequences! Most of all - I'm having nightmares because people are _dead_ and here I am, winning a damn Pulitzer because the world feels sorry for me, but not sorry enough to do anything to stop the violence."

Lois sinks back down on the couch, exhausted from her tirade. She is vaguely aware that she seems like a crazy person, screaming like that. It is especially ironic considering the joke she made to herself, only a few minutes before.

Dr. Anderson scrawls something else on the notepad. "Angry outbursts. Another sign of PTSD."

"Look...it's not that," Lois sighs. "I just feel...hopeless."

"That's normal for people with this condition."

"No, you don't get it. I don't mean 'hopeless' in some sort of cliche, 'I hate my life' kind of way. I'm fed up with the apathy and the killing. And I'm tired of reporting it to people who barely give half a damn."

Lois then asks offhandedly: "You ever get the feeling that the world's going to hell?"

Dr. Anderson smirks slightly, as if she is amused. "Why? Are you religious?"

"That's not what I mean," Lois replies, dismissing the therapist's theory. "I mean...do you ever get the feeling that we - the human race - are digging our own graves? Because it sure feels that way to me."

Before the therapist can answer, a shrill timer goes off on her phone. Their hour together is up. Lois stands in relief, smoothing out her new pantsuit and throwing her bag over her shoulder, before heading to the door.

"I suppose that you're going to force me to come back, right?" Lois says, glancing back from the threshold to eye the other woman carefully.

Dr. Anderson stands as well, and meets her patient at the exit. "I can't force you to do anything. And to be honest, I'm not sure I can help you at all."

"Wow, doc. How can you expect to make a buck without properly advertising yourself? Aren't you supposed to suggest fifty different expensive treatments? Tell me that weekly appointments have life-and-death importance?" Lois jokes with her signature sarcasm.

"Ms. Lane, I get the feeling that fear and trauma are not the root of your problem. Cynicism is. I can't talk you out of well-founded anger, or logical distrust. I can't talk you into feeling optimistic."

"I've never been optimistic, doc. I was born a pessimist. For me, the glass wasn't just half empty. It was enough water to drown someone with, if necessary. My mind is as dark as they come."

The doctor chuckles a bit as she opens the door to her office, gesturing for Lois to leave.

"I do have some advice for you, though," Dr. Anderson calls as Lois leaves, and the second woman turns back, expectant.

"I encourage you to find something to believe in. Something that gives you hope for the future. Otherwise...well...you'll probably just keep reliving the past."

Lois scoffs and continues walking away, utterly unaffected by the cheesy counsel. "I'll get right on that, doc. See you around."

The door of the office shuts behind her.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	3. Chapter Two - The Old Routine

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N**

**So how are you liking it so far?**

**I wanted something with quite a bit of drama, and maybe something that added a little more depth to the (EVENTUAL) Clark and Lois relationship. **

**Speaking of the big blue boy scout, guess who gets his first appearance? **

**In fact, there's a lot of famous characters in this chapter. Hope you like!**

**Enjoy!**

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_CHAPTER TWO: THE OLD ROUTINE_

Lois stares at herself in the mirror, pulling the collar of her blouse to the side. It reveals the bullet wound - small, but angrily red. Unfortunately, the doctors in Qurac said that the scar will never fully fade. But Lois isn't sure she minds. She's alive while a hundred others are dead - a scar seems like a small price.

But her eyes are nonetheless drawn to it all the time, like she has to confirm that it's just a wound, not a black hole that threatens to swallow her up. A black hole that seeks to correct the mistake of her survival.

Unwilling to think morbid thoughts any longer, Lois glances at her wall, where her Pulitzer prize winning stories are hung. Looking at her first one used to give her relief, especially in trying times. But now that the second one hangs next to it, she only feels more unhappy.

"_INVASION OF QURAC?" _it reads. "_BIALYAN NATIONALISTS MASSACRE HUNDREDS._"

It is no surprise that she won the Pulitzer for it. The bullet she received probably generated enough sympathy among the jurors to get it a decent look-over. Maybe that fact was singularly responsible for her win, even as a last minute entry.

But...perhaps she does not give herself enough credit. In her opinion, it _is_ her best writing yet. Every word is brimming with emotion and dripping with cold, tragic facts. Of course, anyone would write something that good if they underwent a long-term hospitalization in a foreign country - a foreign country with no cable, she might add. Boredom produces some of the best masterpieces.

Guilt still eats at her, nonetheless. She took the murders of innocent people and made a story out of it. Won an award because they died. Gained international recognition and sympathy, her face plastered across papers, instead of her name in the bylines. It's simply unfair, and Lois knows it.

The realization of this fact kept her from the journalism game for a little while, and she took a leave of absence under the excuse of recovering from trauma. It was a matter of principle, really. A break from the reality that she has reported on for so long - the reality that decided to kill a whole village and shoot her in the shoulder.

But now it is time to re enter her old routine - find some normalcy, even in a world as brutal as the one she has come to know. So she pulls on her blazer, grabs her briefcase, and allows her spare press pass to fall over her neck. It hangs there like a reminder of the one left in Qurac - the one stained with blood and sand.

It is a noose around her neck, perhaps. To remind her of the ground, which will always be threatening to drop out from under her.

Lois turns back to the mirror once again, examining her outfit and straightening the collar that she pulled off-center. Yes, she looks fine. She's lost a little weight, perhaps, but not enough to be concerning or noticeable. The bags are still under her eyes of course...but there's nothing she can do about those.

But at least her hair looks nice. It is still the same sleek black color, and falls around her shoulders in loose waves. In fact, she might even look _beautiful _to some people. Lois wouldn't doubt such a reaction. She's never lacked confidence in her looks.

Sufficiently content, Lois leaves her apartment and closes the door behind her. It is time for her to go to work - to return to the place she used to love, and hopes she still loves: the Daily Planet.

Apparently, Lois is not the only one heading to work. A man - bulky but slouching, his head covered by a 1920s-style hat - is walking down the hallway toward the elevator. She's seen him before, but only in passing. All she knows is that he is new to the building, having moved into the adjacent apartment sometime during the two months Lois was recovering in Qurac.

It's no wonder why they haven't officially met. Lois has been cooped up in her apartment for weeks, or visiting her sister Lucy in Gotham. And if he works, there would probably be little opportunity for them to encounter one another.

Lois considers taking the stairs, just to avoid whatever awkward introduction she might have to make. But then she is overcome by sudden laziness, and decides against it. Besides, she could just stay silent, right?

"Hey! Hold the doors!" she calls, holding up her hand and running toward them.

The objects in question are just about to slide shut as she calls, but despite that, the man does not hesitate to stick his hands between them. The doors seem so likely to close that, for a moment, she fears that they might crush his fingers. Lucky for him, they detect his presence just in time and pull apart.

"Thanks," Lois mumbles, pushing a stray hair behind her ear before looking away pointedly. If she doesn't stare at him, he'll be less likely to strike up a conversation.

"No problem," he says.

The elevator then descends into awkward silence.

Normally, Lois hates silence, and she'll often find herself filling it by babbling or ranting mindlessly. But not now...now she tolerates the quietude for the sake of serenity and simplicity. She's never been the 'friendly neighbor' type, anyway, and she doesn't want him to get the wrong idea.

But the silence is broken anyway.

"Excuse me, but are you Lois Lane?" he asks, his voice mellow and affable.

Lois still avoids making eye contact. "Yeah...but why do _you_ know that?"

"Well, we're-" he begins, but she cuts him off, her eyes glued to the sleek, metal doors of the elevator.

"Do _not_ say neighbors. That's no excuse for prying into my personal business. I've never even met you before, so there is no '_we_.'"

Lois has lived in the city long enough to know about creepy guys. In fact, the last person who had lived in the apartment next to her was a drug dealer - and a perverted one, at that. She could barely enter her room without unwarranted, sexist comments. Luckily, she snapped photos of one of his exchanges, wrote a short article, and he was in jail a few hours later. The apartment remained unoccupied ever since - until this guy showed up, that is. And she's not about to trust _him_ either.

Unsurprisingly, her new 'neighbor' sounds taken aback when he responds, but his voice is careful nonetheless. "Of course not, Miss Lane. But what I'm trying to tell you is -"

By the grace of God, the doors of the elevator slide open with the ding. Lois does not even say goodbye as she runs from him - the man that she still has not looked at. Her new neighbor.

She will probably forget about him entirely. More likely than not, he'll never talk to her again - especially after her behavior toward him. But that's how she'd prefer their relationship: nonexistent.

"Daily Planet, corner of Fifth Street and Concord Lane," Lois says to the taxi driver that waits at the curb, right outside the entrance of her apartment complex. She pulls the door closed as she slides into the seat. "Make it snappy and I'll double the fee."

With that incentive, the driver slams on the gas, and the car is soon flinging away from the curb. They take off at high speeds and swing wildly around street corners, thus managing to avoid the rush hour traffic.

Lois doesn't really mind this sort of speed, despite the terror that most people might experience. It feels a bit like flying, actually - exhilarating. But she's sure that a cop wouldn't agree, so she reluctantly tells him to ease up a bit.

The taxi arrives at the Daily Planet in record time, and Lois keeps her promise, pulling some cash out of her wallet. "Thanks," she tells the driver as she hoists herself out of the car, vaguely aware of some pain in the bullet wound in her shoulder.

The car speeds away, and Lois looks up at the familiar building - at its seemingly immeasurable height, topped with a gleaming gold globe, spinning steadily.

It gives her the resolution to ignore the dull ache from her injury. After all, she is supposed to be returning to her old routine - and bullet wounds are not part of that. Bullets fired at her, _maybe_ \- those come with the journalism territory. But none are supposed to meet their marks.

But she still loves this place. It feels good to be back.

Once Lois enters the doors and clocks in, she becomes aware that people are staring at her - gaping even. The lobby has fallen silent save a few whispers, and Lois suppresses a shiver. She is supposed to write the news, not make it. Attention is not something she desires. It's something she gets enough of from creepy guys and criminals that she has put away with her stories.

Lois proceeds to the elevators, where she is taken to the top floor of the building. Once the doors opens everyone is staring at her, the area fallen silent once again.

She supposes that the silent treatment is karma for her behavior toward her new neighbor.

Lois steps out of the elevator, trying to ignore the reporters' steady gazes so that she may head directly toward the office of her editor - Perry White. Her heels make clicking sounds as they smack the floor, and the noise is disquieting in the silence.

The lack of sound is especially unnatural for the Daily Planet, which is normally bustling and headache-inducingly loud. It is a place where people scream out current events, or shout accusatory things at the last person to use the copier. That's part of the reason why it always felt like home to Lois. But now...now it's like a tomb in here, and considering the near-death experience Lois recently had, reminders of death are the last things she needs.

"Lois Joanne Lane!" a voice suddenly exclaims. Before she can react, Lois is pulled into a hug by scrawny arms. There is something hard pressing into her stomach, and she recognizes its shape as a camera.

She sighs with false frustration. "Jimmy Olsen, what did I say about using my middle name?"

They pull out of the embrace and stare at each other. Jimmy is smiling broadly, his grin toothy and dimpled. Somehow, it seems like he has more freckles than he used to, but Lois is probably imagining that. One thing she is sure of, though, is that his hair has gotten redder.

Okay, she's probably imagining that too.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demands playfully, waving his arms around in that excited way of his.

The question is very forward, which is a change from the carefully chosen words that she has become used to. It is a welcome change.

"You know where I've been, Olsen. Writing and making headlines. Catching bullets with my bare skin. The usual," she lists off sarcastically, embellishing her joking tone with a nonchalant shrug.

But there is also an unspoken tension in the air, which is evident when Jimmy's smile melts off his face and he clears his throat. The realization hits them both at the same time: if Jimmy had not caught the flu, this reunion would not have occurred. He would be dead. And Tom would be alive.

But Lois suspects that she would still be around, for some strange reason. Obviously the universe has some sort of plan for her.

Then Lois realizes that her suspicion just sounds hokey and dumb, so she dismisses the notion.

As horrible as it is to think, she is glad that Jimmy couldn't go. He is an amazing photographer and a good friend, despite his immaturity. Over their few years of working together, they have become close. Once, she even lent him quite a bit of money to enter some photography competition. To this day, she holds it over his head, claiming it was for blackmail. But in reality, he snaps great photos, even in dangerous situations, and he deserved her help.

She didn't know Tom. Maybe that is a good thing. It makes it easier to let him go.

Breaking out of a reverie, Lois walks past Jimmy, continuing toward Perry's office. "Well, I've got another story to write Jimmy, and I plan to pursue it as soon as possible. So I'm just gonna let Perry know I'm back, then take off again."

"For how long?"

"Calm down. I'm still on the clock. I just can't get the sources I need while I'm here, you know?"

Lois blindly pushes her way into the office, suddenly becoming aware that Perry isn't alone in the room. There is a man sitting in the chair across from the editor's famous desk - a slouching, bulky man with a 1920s-style hat.

Her neighbor. Somehow, he arrived here before her. But...why would he be here at all?

Despite their encounter in the elevator, he turns to her and smiles pleasantly. It is impossible to avoid eye contact now...not that she can make much anyway, considering that thick-framed glasses cover most of his face. Plus, the hat casts shadows over his eyes, thus obscuring his expression further.

God, the man was a fashion disaster…but he _did_ have a nice smile.

"Mr. White," he says, turning away from her. "I believe you have a visitor."

Perry, who was previously reading an article on his computer, finally looks up at her. "Lane?! Is that you?"

His voice is booming, as always.

Lois is still a bit fixated on the man in the chair, so she does not notice when Perry also decides to sweep her into a hug. It is much briefer than Jimmy's, but still - that sort of affection from Perry is practically unheard of.

He steps back and laughs heartily. "Look at ya! My hard-as-nails, double-Pulitzer journalist. Takes a bullet like it's nothing, am I right?"

Perry shoves her lightly on the shoulder - the wrong shoulder. The one with the bullet wound. It is not intentional, of course. Few people even knew where the bullet landed. The only news she released was that it missed her vitals. Her only purpose for doing even _that_ was to get the news to stop capitalizing on her injury...stop making her attack into a media circus, during which the real victims of the massacre - the Quraci people - were ignored.

Nevertheless, Lois winces slightly from his gesture, but does not react more than that. She does not want to worry people, or be coddled. She just wants to get back to normal...and whatever monotony and horrors that normal may bring.

"That's right, chief. I eat bullets for breakfast."

When she glances at her neighbor in the nearby chair, she notices that his eyebrows are knit together, making the shadows on his face more pronounced. He is frowning slightly too.

Somehow, she doubts that he missed her small demonstration of pain.

"Oh wow," Jimmy says. "You've been gone so long...you haven't even met Clark yet."

He begins pulling her toward the man in the chair, who has since stood in anticipation of their official meeting. He is taller than Lois even realized.

"Lois," Jimmy continues, "This is Clark Kent. Clark, this is Lois Lane."

Clark Kent extends his hand to her, hoping for a handshake. "Nice to meet you."

His voice is still quiet...mellow. _He must be very shy_, she thinks as she shakes his hand briefly, and Lois suddenly feels guilty for acting so rudely. But he does not seem bitter about it, so she does not apologize.

"He's been your replacement for the last few months," Perry says. "And to be honest, Lane, you've got some serious competition."

"Competition? You mean he's staying?" Lois asks, trying to keep irritation out of her voice for the sake of politeness. But having this strange man here...well...it was not the sort of normal she was planning on.

"Yeah," Perry says. "You guys can be…er..."

He waves his hand around, like he is searching for the right word. When he does find it, it's the last thing Lois hopes to hear.

"...partners or something."

_Or something_, she thinks frantically. _Definitely or something._

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	4. Chapter Three - Clark Kent

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N**

**I'd really love if someone could tell me how my dialogue is. I've never written a romance before...and well...I feel like I'm bad at it.**

**Advice on writing is much appreciated too.**

**However, to that one anon who sent me three practical essays on (I think) why Lex Luthor is actually a good guy, or how dictatorships are a good thing in relation to comics? (I honestly don't know. A lot of it seemed like a listing of characters from the DC universe) You will most certainly not like Lex in this story. I'm gonna reveal some stuff about him that should establish his moral corruption pretty soon. But I deleted those reviews because I honestly did not see any relevance to my story. Constructive criticism is always appreciated and I always post it but this seemed like someone was using my story as an outlet for posting their opinions on comics. Sorry, anon. Please make sure your reviews are actual reviews! **

**Now, here's some character development on Clark. Enjoy!**

* * *

_C__HAPTER THREE - CLARK KENT_

Lois stares at this man - at this Clark Kent - with utter disbelief. Partners? How could they possibly be partners? Lois is the best reporter in the city, and despite her age, she has loads of experience. This guy, on the other hand, is a total rookie, having only occupied her position for a few months. No, it wouldn't be a partnership. It would practically be a _babysitting_ arrangement.

Clark doesn't meet her eyes. She suspects that he senses her anger, in some way, even if Perry and Jimmy seem entirely oblivious to it.

"Well what are you standing around for?" Perry suddenly demands in his signature booming voice. "I gave you your assignment, Kent."

"Right away, chief," Clark replies as he begins to leave the office, seemingly tipping his hat farther down - as if to better hide his face.

Perry continues to yell after him: "And I want you to make Luthor _squirm_ with questions! He always seems to charm his way out of the tough ones! Hell, the guy should be a politician, with the way he handles the press."

Lois's mind stops short. Hold on. Perry is giving the tadpole reporter...the scoop? No way. She has worked too hard to become the best reporter in the city, and she has a idea formulating for the next big news revelation. If Kent went to this thing and not her...it might undermine everything she has worked for.

"_Lex Luthor's_ giving a press conference?" Lois exclaims. "Hold up, chief. _I_ was planning to write a story on Luthor. Let me take the assignment." Given, she wasn't really interested in the press conference, which is what Perry wanted the coverage on. But it was her first step in research for a greater story...a story that could change everything, if she finds the information she is looking for.

Besides, she needs to talk to Lex. And she is not prepared to make any sort of personal calls.

Perry shakes his head . "Look, Lane. You're too late. Luthor's giving a press conference on his big new government contract in-" he looks at his watch and his eyes widen. "Holy shit. A half hour. Alright, Kent. You gotta scram."

Clark, who has been patiently waiting in the doorway, nods and proceeds to leave again. But Lois runs in front of him, blocking his path, her arms spread wide. "Nuh-uh rookie. I've got this story covered. Why don't you go write about squirrel populations in the city parks? That seems like a better subject for a man of your...disposition."

"Sorry...but I have to go," Clark stammers a bit, trying to move around her, but Lois just blocks his path again.

"Lane, you can't write about Luthor," Perry interjects loudly. "You're _involved_ with him. There's no objectivity."

Lois feels her face heat up, now that the stares of the entire floor have focused on her again. She can't blame them for gawking, though. She is making quite a scene outside the editor's office, and Perry just announced a potentially gossip-worthy piece of information.

The blush isn't just from embarrassment, though. It is anger toward Perry, toward this new reporter, and most of all...toward Lex.

Jimmy moves beside her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Lois...it's your first day back. Maybe you should take it easy."

Take it easy? After all the shit that's happened to her...after all the work she's done to become a good reporter, to get a serious job as a woman - and not only that, a young attractive woman - God, she would rather die than ignore the call of a good story. Even after all that's happened. Even after Qurac.

Her anger mounts, and her hands ball into fists. "All of you listen to me _very closely_," she begins, her voice tight as she addresses the entire floor, which remains transfixed on her in morbid fascination - like they are watching a train wreck. "First, I am no longer _involved_ with Lex Luthor in any way, so my objectivity is fine. In fact, it's beyond fine. It's _freaking perfect_.

"Second, this rookie reporter doesn't know the first thing about making Luthor squirm. I _do_. I am the _best_ person for this assignment, and you're not gonna stop me from going.

"And third...I have spent _months_ 'taking it easy,' and I've had enough. I need to feel like I'm doing something worthwhile. And I don't mean doing something in a month, or in a few days, or even tomorrow. I need to feel like I'm doing something worthwhile _right now_."

The entire floor is silent, so Lois can hear her own heavy breaths. She glances around the room - at Perry and Jimmy, whose expressions display a mix of surprise and embarrassment for her.

She decides that she doesn't care what they think. What anyone thinks. There's something that she needs to do, and they're not going stop her.

Suddenly, Clark clears his throat, and begins talking in that careful, diplomatic tone of his.

"Why don't we both go? After all, we're supposed to be partners. And I probably could learn something from you."

It's the kind of suggestion that's supposed to placate her. It's soothing and compromising with just a hint of flattery.

The kind that could get someone to agree to an interview, or reveal more information than they should. Perhaps he had more potential as a reporter than Lois originally thought.

"That's a good plan, Kent," Perry agrees, eying Lois like she might explode at any moment. "But you two better get going."

Clark stares at her...or at least it seems that way, given the shadows from his glasses and his hat. He then extends his arm away from her.

"After you, Miss Lane."

* * *

One thing Lois will say about Clark Kent: he's not scared easily. Once they entered a cab together, Lois told the cab driver that she'd triple the fee for triple the speed. Now she has the distinct impression that the car is hardly touching the pavement, given the way its velocity causes it to shoot upwards whenever it hits a bump.

Thankfully, it is past morning rush hour, but there is always traffic in Metropolis. It's the the biggest city in the world, after all. Just not big enough to fill up the empty backroads that they're traveling through at an approximate speed of one hundred miles per hour.

Lois can never go this fast when Jimmy is with her. He always ends up screaming like a little girl and pleading for the driver to stop. So for a guy as timid as Clark to be entirely unfrightened by a potentially lethal car speed...well, it's just not exactly what she expected.

The silence of the car is beyond awkward, though, and Lois flashes uncomfortably back to their encounter in the elevator. He probably hates her. After all, she pretty much insulted him during their first meeting, and then she proceeded to try to steal his story.

It's not that she cares about what people think about her. In fact, she _loves_ disregarding traditional standards. But she knows there's something shameful in derogating someone who has been nothing but courteous and understanding toward her.

As if he is reading her mind, Clark suddenly speaks up.

"So...I guess we're neighbors _and_ co-workers, huh?" he observes smoothly.

"_There is no 'we'_" Lois recalls herself saying icily, in that elevator only a few hours ago.

Oh, the irony is unbelievable. Because now...now they were definitely _something_. Partners, or whatever Perry wanted to call it.

She glances at Clark, but it is like staring at a wall. His eyes are practically inscrutable behind those glasses, under those shadows. She wonders why he dresses this way...with his baggy, raggedy suit, his overlarge hat, and his enormous glasses. The clothes are almost deliberately ugly, or maybe...concealing. The curious part of her wants to ask about it, but she figures he wouldn't answer her. Especially after the way she has treated him. So she files her questions away for future use. Besides, this guy is probably like...the epitome of average. It's not like his reason would be interesting, wouldn't it?

Alright, well. He has a nice smile. That was above average, she could admit.

But the outfit. _Mother of God_, it had to go.

Clark clears his throat, apparently aware that Lois has not said anything in response, even though she has yet to realize.

She starts a bit upon hearing the sound, and is snapped back to reality - one where Clark Kent's fashion choices don't distract. "Oh yeah. Huh. Neighbors."

Silence.

Lois smacks herself internally. She needs to get on his good side, and she isn't making any progress by giving him the silent treatment.

Because if this guy - this Clark Kent - can really write quality articles, then he _is_ in competition with her. And though some competitions can be good, a _close_ competition with a guy who hates her guts would probably ruin her - especially if the competition got dirty. She might just end up beating him up or something, and then her dad would probably have to pull high-end government strings to get her out of jail. It'd just be a hassle, is all. Plus, she doesn't want to hit a guy with glasses. It simply isn't classy.

"So...in the elevator...I take it you were trying to tell me about your job as my substitute?" Lois offers, eying him carefully.

Clark Kent smirks a little. "Yeah. But then you got a little…"

"Aggressive?" she finishes for him.

"Just a tad."

Lois rubs her forehead, as if she can rub off her humiliation. "I'm sorry," she concedes. "But the last guy who lived in your apartment was quite the perverted drug-dealer. It only takes one bad neighbor to ruin your whole perception. Guess I assumed you were the next Walter White."

"Who's Walter White?"

She gives him a sideways glance. "You know...the guy from that show _Breaking Bad_?"

He shakes his head, and despite the shadows, she can see his eyebrows knit together. "Is that the one about the drug dealers?"

"Yeah. It's great. You should totally watch it."

Clark shrugs. "Sorry. I just don't see anything appealing about romanticizing criminals."

Lois laughs, and he looks inquisitively at her.

"What?"

"Come on," Lois guffaws. "If you hate romanticized criminals, then you must hate all of Shakespeare's works. Or Victor Hugo's. Or Arthur Conan Doyle's. Hell, even Greek mythology. Pretty much every story in history centers around criminals ."

He looks a bit offended at that. "Have you read Greek mythology? It's about _heroes, _not criminals."

"Actually it's about sex-crazed gods, monsters born from those gods, and murderers with swords. But idealists always like to believe it's about _heroes_," Lois points out with a scoff, looking at her nails nonchalantly.

"Well, Miss Lane, I suppose I was raised to look for good in the world. Not bad," Clark says, his voice very disapproving. Almost sassy. It is an unexpected tone from him, and Lois finds it amusing.

"And where exactly is this _mythical utopia_ where Clark Kent was raised?"

"Smallville," he says, as if it's the most obvious fact in the world. There's a also a hint of wistfulness behind his words, like he misses the place - wherever it may be.

"Never heard of it," she declares curtly.

"Really?" he wonders, seeming genuinely surprised. "It's the biggest producer of corn in Kansas. Maybe even the whole country."

Scoffing a bit, Lois returns to her signature sarcasm: "Oh _that_ Smallville. Wow. That's like the Hollywood of the midwest. I hear the tourism's through the roof."

If she could see his eyes, Lois could have sworn that he just rolled them. Perhaps he isn't quite as timid as she was led to believe.

"Is that sarcasm, Miss Lane?"

"What do you think, _Smallville_?"

The car swings violently around a corner, and Lois is forced to grab Clark's shoulder to maintain proper balance in her seat, seeing as she did not use a seatbelt. He doesn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seems more than inclined to help. But Lois removes her hand very quickly, hoping to avoid making the situation any more awkward. She just managed to fix a bit of the unease between them - it would be horrible to see it all go to waste.

"They invented seatbelts for a reason, Miss Lane," he tells her, sounding rather like a patronizing parent. Evidently he has noticed the reason for her loss of balance.

She glances at him - at the seatbelt that slings from his shoulder to his waist. Jeez, was he a stickler. A nervous nelly. A wet blanket. A...farmboy.

The latter isn't even an insult, mostly because it's true. Besides, he's actually pretty nice for a farmboy.

Finally, the taxi skids to a stop, and the view from the windows changes from a blur to the clear image of the LexCorp Towers, which gleam like silver in the sunlight. Lois continues to stare outside, observing all the reporters and news crews that are filing through the security at the front entrance.

For a moment, she feels slightly nervous. Her presence at the press conference...it is going to be very public. People will probably notice her. Lex is _most definitely_ going to notice her. She hasn't talked to him since her experiences in Qurac…what exactly is she going to say to him? She hasn't thought it through very thoroughly.

But she shakes off the fear. What use is fear anyway? It didn't help her get her job done.

"We should go," Lois suggests to Clark. She removes her purse from her shoulder so she can access her wallet. However, when she glances at Clark, she notices that he is already handing the driver his promised money.

"Whoa, Smallville. I'm the one who said 'triple the fee.' I can pay-"

"It's fine. It's your first day back, so I figured…" He trails off and opens the door to the taxi, thanking the driver as he leaves.

Lois snorts and addresses the driver, resting her elbow on headrest of the shotgun seat. She can see his eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Psh. Midwesterners, am I right?"

The man returns the snort. "They make us city-folks look bad. But hey, if you're feeling guilty, you can pay the fee again."

"In your dreams, bucko," Lois replies as she exits the car.

The movement of lifting herself out of the vehicle irritates her shoulder more than ever. She suppresses the need to cry out by biting her lip, but a noise still escapes. However, instead of a yell, it sounds more like a pained groan. It's not nearly as bad, but still not preferable.

Clark, who is suddenly standing beside her, clearly hears it. He immediately looks concerned. "Are you alright Miss Lane?"

Lois rubs the wound, hoping the pain won't distract from the difficult feat of walking in her high heels. "Yeah. I'm fine."

She approaches the entrance of the Lexcorp Towers, where the security waits. Clark keeps pace with her, and she can sense him looking at that irksome shoulder, which continues to bother her incessantly.

"That's where...where the bullet landed, isn't it?" he whispers solemnly, like he wishes he could have done something to stop it. But he didn't even know her then, so why would he even care?

"What gave it away?" Lois responds, gritting her teeth.

"I didn't mean to pry, Miss Lane. But if you need help I can -"

She stops him short with a hand on his chest. It's surprisingly hard, his chest. Especially since his baggy suit makes him look a bit chunky.

"First off, Smallville, I don't need help. I said I'm fine, and I mean it. The bullet wound didn't kill me in Qurac and it certainly won't kill me here.

"Second, call me _Lois,_ for God's sake. I'm not a damn teacher, even if you are planning to learn from me."

Lois then continues walking inside. It's unsurprising that they don't even need to check her press pass - her fame from her...accident has made her famous. Plus, she's met Lex for lunch in his office far too many times. She could probably name a few of the guards, and they could most certainly name her.

But they're not the only ones who recognize her. She sees some of the other reporters point and whisper - _that's her. That's the woman who got shot._

It makes her angry. Plain and simple. Because these people pretend to be outraged by that kind of injustice...they pretend to want it to end. But in reality, their interest is only morbid curiosity, and it passes as quickly as any trend. People have already forgotten how and why she was shot in the first place.

Clark moves beside her, still seeming concerned. It is somewhat comforting, despite the fact that she barely knows him. "I assume that the shoulder isn't the only thing bothering you?" he says.

Lois sets her jaw and walks confidently toward the Lexcorp elevators. "Not by a long shot, Smallville."

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	5. Chapter Four - the Promise

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N**

**Hello again! New chapter...and we find out what's up with Lex. Or at least...only a bit of what's really up with him. **

**Not a lot of Clark in this chapter. Sorry. I guess they call it slow burn for a reason. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_CHAPTER FOUR - THE PROMISE_

Lois walks into the Lexcorp auditorium in the most discreet manner possible. She doesn't stop to talk with the other reporters...doesn't even meet their eyes (or more accurately, their stares). But she does keep her head up - chin raised. The last thing she needs is for people to think that she's broken...that what happened to her broke her.

She finds a seat in the crowd and takes out her notebook. Unfortunately, she suspects that people are still staring at her. But hopefully her focus on her job will remind them to focus on their own.

Clark sits down beside her. Somehow, she suspects that he too does not find pleasure in their attentions. At the same time, though, she fights the urge to hide behind his bulky frame. That way, people would just stop staring. But that would be utterly humiliating for her, so she quickly pushes the notion out of her mind.

As she begins to chew on her pen with nervousness, she feels someone put a hand on her shoulder from behind. Naturally, she jumps and recoils, and a part of her cannot believe that Clark is making some sort of move on her despite the fact that they just met.

Her hand raises, prepared to smack him. Before she can, however, she hears a familiar voice from behind - clearly the owner of the hand on her shoulder, and decidedly not Clark.

"Lois? Is that really you?" Lex asks.

She turns around to get a good look at him, even though she expects that he looks exactly the same. In truth, it's not like he can get a haircut. He is perpetually bald, for some reason, though she has never found the courage to ask why. Maybe it is a personal preference. Maybe it is a condition.

So indeed, when Lois turns, it is entirely predictable that he looks identical to the man she knew months ago, despite all that has changed. The only noticeable difference is his suit, which must be new.

It's unbelievable how much Lois's viewpoints and feelings have changed, even when the two of them remain physically unaltered.

"Hello, Lex," she greets him stoically, before turning back to the awaiting stage, which Lex should be mounting in a few minutes.

Lois expected this to happen. She really did. But somehow, when she wasn't actually near him, imagining an encounter with him seemed easy. But now nervousness has set in, and it is stronger than anything she has ever felt. She fears that she will revert to the person she was when she was with him - a submissive, ignorant woman whose perceptions were overshadowed by those of her boyfriend. After all - she never officially broke up with him. She mostly just avoided his calls...the doctors he sent to Qurac. She pretended he didn't exist.

He is here now, though - clearly and undeniably existing, and it is unbearable.

Acting uncharacteristically childish, Lex climbs over the chair beside her. He now stands directly in front of her, blocking her view of the stage, so she has to look at him. It is an uncompromising gesture.

She sees Lex's eyes glance from Clark to her, trying to assess the situation. Evidently, he finds nothing of interest between the two of them (mostly because they are strangers, and they appear that way), and his view settles on Lois again. His eyes travel up her body in a way that should perhaps be comforting, since there seems to be affection it it - like he is drinking in the sight of her. But it seems all too hungry to her.

"Lois…" he repeats numbly. Then he does something utterly unexpected - he drops to his knees and throws his arms around her. The hug is almost crushing, and Lois is completely speechless. This...this is certainly not how she expected their reunion to occur.

She can feel his breath against her hair. "I've tried to contact you so many times. You've been driving me nuts."

Trying to remain unaffected by the gesture, Lois unhooks his hands from behind her neck and places them at his side. That should send a clear message, but Lex still looks at her hopefully. Why would he look at her any other way? He's Lex Luthor. A billionaire weapons mogul, having inherited his precious company from his rich father. He can have anyone, do anything he wants. She has learned that the hard way.

"We should talk," Lois tells Lex in that same stoic tone, throwing a quick glance Clark's way. He simply looks uncomfortable, but not inclined to pry into their personal business.

Though he must believe that she was lying when she said she was done with Lex, back in the Daily Planet. It's quite clear that Lex doesn't think they're finished. Lois, however, is quite adamant that they are. She just has yet to tell her ex-beau. So in reality, she wasn't lying. Her objectivity is fine. Her emotions toward Lex do not influence her in any way. No way at all. None. Nil. Zero.

So she tells herself.

"Of course," Lex replies. "Let's go."

He grabs her hand and pulls her to her feet, thus starting to drag her toward a nearby room.

"But your press conference-" Lois protests with a glance around the room, in which she sees the even greater number of stares that the two of them are attracting.

Lex rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone with his free hand. Upon pressing a button, he says quickly: "Please tell the press that a personal matter has briefly diverted my attention. I will be with them shortly."

He continues pulling her out, and as they leave, Lois gives Clark an annoyed, apologetic shrug as she tosses her pen and notebook back on the chair. In response, it seems like he gives her a comforting smile. Yes...that is a good way to describe it. It is not not encouraging, but...comforting.

Once she and Lex are inside another room - it seems to be an office, and a terribly underlit and under-decorated at that - Lois pulls her hand out of his grasp. "These people came to see you, Lex. You can't just brush them off like that!"

Lex turns away as he locks the door.

Privacy. She supposes that's good, in a way. And bad in others.

"For you, I can." He spins back toward her, his gaze now a little harsh. "What the hell have you been doing, Lois? Do you know how many times I've tried to call you? The money I spent sending doctors overseas that you -"

He stops himself short, and his voice becomes very quiet. "You know what? That's not important. What's important is that you're okay, and you're here, with me."

Lex moves toward her, brushing her cheek with his hands. They are bone-chillingly cold, and they make her shiver. She cannot stand it.

When she lunges away from him, the movement is almost animalistic. It is unsurprising that he seems stunned at her apparent repulsion, since it is such a drastic change from how she used to act. But if her refusal to talk to him was any indication, he should know by now that she is not the same Lois he knew.

"You know what, Lex?" Lois says carefully, straightening up to fix her hair, which his hands pushed out of place. She is trying to seem casual now, even though every part of her is resisting the urge to throttle him. "I don't think you care whether I'm alive. Whether anyone's alive, in fact."

He squints and looks incredulous at her behavior. She doubts that anyone has acted this way toward him before, and if no one has, she resolves that he's had it coming for a long time.

"What are you talking about, Lois?" Lex asks with a bit of exasperation, as if she is acting unreasonable again - like she always acts unreasonable.

But she has a good reason for behaving this way. No, an incredibly plausible reason. It'd be insane for her not to act this way.

"I think you know," Lois almost yells, but she keeps her voice down to avoid any intervention from nearby reporters. "I mean, you called me that day, didn't you? You were so damn mad that I hadn't gone home. But you and I, we are always busy. Why would it have been a big deal if I had stayed a little while longer? It wouldn't really affect our date schedule. Unless, of course, you knew...you knew that there was danger.

Silence falls as Lex's mouth opens for a moment, but his face becomes emotionless quite quickly thereafter. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

Lois suspects that she might start screeching in rage, given his feigned ignorance. He knows. He most certainly knows what she is insinuating. But she snaps her jaws closed and pulls her bag out in front of her.

For a moment, she sifts through it, searching. She pushes past her new, unopened package of cigarettes, past her makeup, past her cell phone, until she finds it - the ziploc.

Lois yanks it out of the purse with ferocity and holds it up to the light. It is a bronze color, and it still gleams despite the low light. There is no mistaking what it is - a bullet. The bullet that pierced her skin. The bullet that nearly killed her.

She pushes the bag in his face, as if forcing him to look at it - to look at what he's done...done to her...done to the people of Qurac. "You recognize this bullet, Lex? You probably wouldn't...at least not from a firsthand view. It's been in the Lexcorp warehouses since your dad owned this company - that is, until they were shipped off to Bialya in an illegal sale."

Lois watches his face with fascination, taking utter satisfaction in the way his jaw tightens and his eyes narrow. This...this is what she has waited for. She wants to throw it in his face that she's alive, and that she knows he's a horrible, shitty person.

"The bullets are outdated, of course. Extraneous. Biayla could have stolen better ones. But why waste a potential profit?

"So you had someone smuggle guns and ammunition into Bialya, despite the weapons embargo. And that same someone smuggled your new revenue out. It seemed like a clean deal. Nothing to trace back to you. After all, you deleted the records of the stuff's existence from your databases.

"Unfortunately, you never counted on the fact that your father, back when he manufactured those bullets, was trying to market like crazy. So there on the little face of this tiny killing machine-"

Lois holds the bag up to her eyes and spins the bullet from within the plastic. She finds what she is looking for quite quickly, given the fact that she has stared at it for hours on end, back when she was trying to make sense of what happened to her after the attack. But now it is his turn to stare.

So she shoves the bullet back toward his face, her fingernail pointing directly to the symbol of interest.

"-is the Luthorcorp logo. But you never noticed that, of course. You never even bothered to glance at the weapons you nonchalantly sold to actual killers…No...You just saw excess in a damn inventory and said 'drop a load off.' Business is business, after all," she finishes, her voice transitioning from a vicious snarl to a heartbroken murmur.

Lois curls her fist, the bullet now at her side, tightly enclosed between her fingers. She is still whispering when she continues speaking.

"Meanwhile, those guns ended up in the hands of nationalists that killed entire towns. But I'm sure that's of no concern to you, right Lex?"

They stare each other down for a few moments, before Lex speaks up. He gulps before he does so.

"That's quite...quite a few assumptions you are making there, Lois."

Lois laughs derisively before beginning to hiss deliberately. "Assumptions? The only thing that I ever assumed in my life is that I wouldn't have to pull a bullet with, of all things, my boyfriend's last name on it out of my $%# ing shoulder. But clearly I was wrong."

She takes the bullet and places it back in her bag. She will no longer meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry if you feel that I had...some hand in what happened to you. But I assure you, you are wrong."

And he is lying. Lois knows it in her heart, her head, and her gut, and nothing - not his charms, not his good looks, not his money will change that fact. Will change the fact that people in Qurac are dead...that she was almost dead...that Tom is dead.

"...I care about you Lois. I really do. So please...don't be this way."

Go to hell, she thinks as she shakes her head and pushes past him toward the door. Her shaking hand slides the lock out of position. Before she leaves, however, she turns back to him, her voice even and resolute.

"I just want you to know that I'm going to ruin you, Lex. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care who I have to ally myself with. But I am going to tear your reputation to shreds...relegate you to a life of imprisonment. Sadly, the only thing I won't be able to do is make you experience horrors like the ones you are responsible for. A man like you should have tons of guilt...tons of baggage...but you remain utterly unrepentant-and I can't change that."

Lois pulls the collar of her shirt to the side, once again revealing the angry red scar - which seems even angrier in this light. "And this, Lex? This is my baggage. And it's yet another thing you have to answer for. But once again, I promise you...you are going to pay for what you've done."

Instead of asking for forgiveness, he sinks lower. He challenges her.

"You're certainly welcome to try," he says, shooting her an amused smirk.

After that, Lois storms out of the room, leaving Lex smirking after her. A part of her knows that she should return to the auditorium, where Clark is waiting for her. But she can't go there...not now. Not after that emotional episode. The package of cigarettes in her bag is calling her name, and she's in no state to deny them.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	6. Chapter Five - Something New

**A/N**

**Wow, it's been a while since I've posted anything. Sorry about that. And I know I have to update my other story, which has accumulated 300 followers (wow!). Of course, I'm not forgetting about that one in favor of this one - this chapter was prewritten a long time ago, and I've just forgotten to update it. **

**Per usual, I'm busy, busy, busy, so who knows when I'll get to write anything else. Please be patient with me. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE - SOMETHING NEW

_Inhale_. Stiflingly hot air fills Lois's lungs, and she clings to the warmth for a few moments, reveling in the heat and the brief nicotine rush that accompanies it. Her lungs strain, urging her to release the burning air, and a part of her registers that the feeling isn't exactly pleasant - in fact, it is rather painful - but there is certainly something comforting in it.

When she pulls the cigarette away from her mouth, it feels awkward in her hands. She is new to the smoking phenomena, and her only knowledge of...maneuvering them comes from watching her father smoke his cigars, or the "bad kids" in her college who just didn't listen to the warnings against smoking.

_Exhale_. The vapors seep out from between her parted lips, and she is glad to discover that she has gotten past the "coughing" phase. Why she is glad, or smoking at all, she can't say for sure. It's just something she picked up in Qurac, and she can't seem to drop it.

Lois stands outside the Lexcorp Towers, under the humongous, futuristic overhang affixed over numerous doors. There is a video billboard beside her - attached to the wall of the building itself. It broadcasts the press conference occurring inside, where Lois assumes that Clark is taking vigorous notes and mustering the courage to ask a question - once Lex's informational presentation is over, that is.

_Inhale. _She has resolved to return to the auditorium once the question and answer session begins, during which she will do her best to humiliate Lex. But right now she will listen to his presentation in the comfort of the outdoors, cigarette in hand and blissfully isolated.

"...under my father's leadership, this company practically built Metropolis," the billboard blares in Lex's voice. "But recently, the crime rates in this beautiful city have become quite disturbing to me - "

_Exhale. _The smoke pours out in a silent hiss of outrage. He doesn't care. She knows he doesn't. Without killings, without violence, he wouldn't have much of an income, would he?

"-which is why part of our government contract will include providing new, state of the art weapons to law enforcement, so that they may better protect the good people of Metropolis, and other cities."

Lois can't stand to look at him - not when he lies so obviously...when he so clearly does not care about the protection of "good people."

She diverts her eyes, instead focusing them on the nearby traffic. Cars shoot by at what seems like a million miles per hour, occasionally running over puddles so that water spews from the tires. She sees pedestrians scrambling to cross the street before the lights change, or a reckless taxi passes through without a decent look. A little further along, in front of a coffee shop across the street, a dog is tied to a fire hydrant. Lois smirks as she examines the cruelty of the pup's situation, considering that he is chained to his equivalent of a toilet.

She hears the dog begin to bark ferociously. The object of his aggression appears to be a passing truck - one that is entering the underground Lexcorp shipping lanes. As the truck cruises into the tunnels, Lois gets a good look at its driver. His platinum hair sticks up in all directions, and there are several piercings through the skin on his pale face. Though she cannot discern the color of his eyes, she sees him wink at her. Then the truck is gone, as if it had never existed in the first place. The only indication that she did not imagine the whole thing is the dog, which remains growling after its vanished quarry.

Nonetheless, despite her newfound (or perhaps enhanced) cynicism, and the absolute _creeps_ that run rampant, she still loves the feeling of the city. Its heartbeat. Its constant motion and energy. She thinks it might be enough to distract her from her memories of her time in Qurac, but not with Lex here...reminding her of all the ruthlessness in the world.

But she needs to take him down. Lois doesn't think she'll be satisfied until she does.

The informational presentation drones on for over a half hour, with Lois continuing her smoking session outside, unconvinced by Lex's seemingly heartfelt words. She memorizes his speech for her article, trying to ignore the familiarity of the way he speaks, or the fondness he uses when discussing his workers or the city. He used to choose similar tones when addressing her, and if she now knows the affection to be a lie, did he ever really care about her at all? Did he even mean what he said?

It's only fair, she supposes. In truth, she never loved him that strongly...it just hurts a bit, is all, knowing that he was lying the whole time.

Alright, alright; she never loved him _at all_, and she is glad that she never let herself. But she cared about him enough to feel betrayed by his constant deceit.

Of course, she has never _truly_ fallen in love - not in the way that romance novels describe, anyway. People, regardless of their relation to her, tend to slow her down...hold her back. She just doesn't have the patience or time to adapt to new relationships, or to the idiosyncrasies of a partner. Lois is blunt, uncompromising, and admittedly, obnoxious. She doesn't coddle or fawn over people - it's just not her style.

In truth, she _has_ dated around the block. Boys from high school, boys from college, boys from her first jobs. But there has always been some aspect to them that seemed...restrictive. They often couldn't handle how troublesome she was, and she couldn't handle how...traditional they were, she supposes. She grew up with a military father, and that has given her enough experience with the "traditional" male for a lifetime.

Plus, Lois has seen the world. It takes a lot for a relationship to seem interesting to her, especially when the next big news story seems so much more enticing.

She is engrossed in a reverie when she feels her legs begin to shake, and she wonders whether the movement is a result of the colder temperatures, or a sort of delayed expression of anger.

A glance at her feet reveals something else entirely - something new. The ground itself is shaking...and the tremors are growing stronger.

There are muffled booms emanating from under her feet - explosions, perhaps - and soon cracks form around her toes. They elongate and widen, practically gouging out the ground, before beginning to snake their way up the walls of the towers. She can see the slight swaying of the building, of the floors, as if this were an earthquake. To make the situation even more ominous, the nearby billboard cuts to static; its wires were probably severed with the explosions below.

Panicked yells fill the air as people run, but most just stand stunned in their places, trying to assess the confusing situation before them.

With a mighty crack, the ground destabilizes entirely, and Lois is suddenly thrown downwards. The concrete has split open under her feet, and she struggles to grab onto something before she falls into the underground tunnels. Her grip on a nearby column is enough for her to launch herself back onto steady ground, where she staggers unsteadily to her feet as her shoulder complains about the recent exertion.

Smoke billows up from the hole that almost consumed her, and it is not like the kind from the cigarette that she has since dropped in the chaos. It smells like heavy ash, hungry flame, and _destruction_. Things that are unfamiliar to Lois but all too familiar to her at the same time.

_Smoke from a gun. People screaming all around her. The explosions of bullets firing over and over again. _

Something has gone terribly wrong in the shipping lanes. It is a disaster...a catastrophe…

Correction: _another_ catastrophe for Lois, anyway.

Another deafening sound fills the air, mixing with a chorus of fearful cries for help. It is the sound of crumbling...snapping. The columns holding up the huge Lexcorp overhang destabilize as well, fracturing like twigs.

_The little girl, screaming a warning for Lois to move. The people trapped inside buildings, screaming. _

To make matters worse, the cracks that had peacefully invaded the building's walls now become aggressive, breaking the overhang into puzzle pieces that threaten to crush the world underneath them. The people underneath them. And there is no stopping it.

Realizing what is going to happen, Lois raises her voice, hoping the people around can hear. "It's about to fall apart! Everybody _move_!"

She makes her way to the sides, where the overhang ends. But people are still trapped under it, paralyzed by fear.

_It's happening again_, she thinks, her mind still catapulting her back to the little girl. The little girl that ran. The little girl whose survival is still a mystery. Even the cracks of the concrete sound like gunshots.

Just as the overhang seems about to collapse in on itself, the pieces crumbling in a centripetal fashion, a blue blur zips past Lois, whipping her hair back and almost knocking her off her feet. She follows it with her eyes, confused about what it could be. Finally, it slows down enough for her to get a decent look at whatever it is.

Or whoever, that is.

She can only view him from a strange angle, but he appears to be a...flying man. Yes, somehow...somehow he is doing the impossible - floating in midair, with no suspension at all!

He presses upon the overhang with his bare hands, supporting it with nothing but his strength and body. And somehow, impossibly, the overhand begins to right itself...returning to its regular shape.

People (Lois included) gape at him, at this flying man wearing what appears to be a bright red cape that flaps in the wind. The rest of him is so difficult to see, given the falling dust from the building and the smoke pouring out from holes in the ground. Lois needs to get closer because this...this could be the story of the century, and she'll need to proof to back up what she writes. So she gravitates back to the center of the overhang, determined to decipher this mystery.

"Go!" she hears the flying man order to the remaining pedestrians under the overhang, and it shudders as he holds it. That is sufficient danger to cause the people to run, despite their awe. In a few moments, the area under the overhang is almost entirely clear, save for Lois and the flying man.

Driven by curiosity, she pulls out her cell phone, struggling to capture his image despite the debris in the air. Luckily, for a brief moment, the air clears enough for her to snap a photo that would make Jimmy proud.

_Dear God_, what a story. Who is this guy? _Hercules_? Lois has to know.

While the man continues to visibly struggle with the overhang, Lois examines the picture. She sees some sort of uniform - dark blue, with a red belt along his waist. There is something else...some sort of insignia on his chest, but he is turned away just a hair too far-

There is another shudder from the overhang, and Lois looks upwards - just in time for her to see a giant piece of material hurdling down.

_How ridiculous_, she thinks for a split-second. She survives crime lords, rainforests, and gun-toting maniacs, only to be crushed under something as unimpressive as a hunk of metal? It seems almost comical.

Thus, the only thing she manages to say before it hits is: "You gotta be kidding me."

Lois closes her eyes, bracing for death. She expects the pain to be short, and after that...well, she doesn't know what to expect. She's generally skeptical of everything, including afterlifes, so a part of her figures that this is it. It's been an okay life, though. At least she won a Pulitzer.

Most of all, she realizes that she had this coming. These are her just rewards for surviving when those people in Qurac didn't.

However, instead of pain, she is suddenly weightless, and she wonders if she is now some sort of ghost.

But no...she most certainly feels something. The temperature is a bit colder than it was a few seconds ago, a breeze nipping at her skin, and there is gentle but firm pressure along her back and under her knees.

Lois's eyes open slowly...carefully...unsure of what she might find.

Her gaze is met by someone else's - someone whose eyes are a gleaming, striking, _almost glowing _blue. They completely and utterly capture her attention, and despite how strange and silly it sounds, she cannot look away.

There's no specific, single color that she could ever apply to those eyes. They must contain a million different shades and tones of blues - such as the deep navy on the rims of the iris, surrounding what seemed to be a heterogenous mix of light and dark and greenish blues. The final touch was the most striking though - an almost electrical color around the pupil, extending and contracting with each movement of his eyes - which seem to be checking her for injuries. These eyes are like nothing she's ever seen before...like nothing on this Earth.

"Are you alright?" she hears him ask, and she finally musters enough focus to tear her eyes away from his.

It's the flying man, she realizes. The flying man is...floating, with her in his arms…a few feet above the ground. He somehow managed to move her in time, before the metal crushed her.

It's unbelievable. Inconceivable. Just downright impossible.

But here he is. And here _she_ is.

"I-I.." Lois stammers, completely dumbstruck by the whole situation. She stares at his face again, which looks expectant of a response.

Actually...she notices that it's a very handsome face. A gorgeous face, in fact, with a strong chin and flawless features. His hair isn't half bad either, given the way it is flipped away from his face. It seems that an unruly piece managed to escape, and it hangs over his forehead in a shiny black curl.

"Miss?" he questions again, his voice careful and soft.

"I'm fine. I'm floating - flying - but I am _totally fine_," Lois frantically claims to herself, and he smiles in response, seemingly pleased by the answer. He slowly brings them both to the ground, and before long he has lowered her to her feet.

Hasn't she seen that smile before? No, of course not. Ridiculous notion. She would have remembered someone this _gorgeous_.

Lois stands unsteadily for a moment, balancing on her heels, before taking a step back to get a full view of him. His uniform is the same blue color she saw before, but it is some sort of armor - something she has never seen before - with an insignia on the chest. The symbol resembles an "S" enclosed in a upside down pentagon, and she notices that it is repeated on the back of his flapping red cape.

Of course, there are other thing she notices. He is tall and absolutely _ripped_, and that gives him an almost intimidating amount of bulk. His concerned expression, however, eliminates any intimidating qualities that he might have possessed.

"You saved me," Lois remarks incredulously, staring into those unfathomable blue eyes. "I...thank you."

"There's no need to thank me," he assures, and somehow from him, it does not sound cliche or rehearsed. The tone is completely sincere, like he never even considered thanks as a possible consequence of his actions.

A little ways off, Lois hears sirens, and she turns toward the source of the sound. He apparently moved her to the side of the Lexcorp towers, and she can see the emergency services arriving to deal with the destruction. From here, she can tell that the overhang collapsed completely - he probably abandoned his hold on it to rescue her. A blush of embarrassment and shame warms her cheeks, further exacerbated by the fact that they are still standing here, staring at each other.

Lois clears her throat. "There were people in the Lexcorp buildings. Are they trapped or -?"

"They're all fine. Lexcorp has plenty of emergency exits to allow for a safe escape."

"But...who are you? What did this?"

He purses his lips for a moment, and responds enigmatically.

"I don't know. But I intend to find out."

Then he is gone, having flown or sped away at the speed of a bullet, and Lois is left standing alone and in awe.

He was certainly..._something else_.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	7. Chapter Six - The Big Story

**A/N**

**DISCLAIMER: I STILL DON'T OWN THESE CHARACTERS, CONCEPTS, ETC. NO MATTER HOW MUCH I WISH I DID. IF I DID LOIS AND CLARK WOULD BE TOGETHER IN THE COMICS *SOBS***

**I'm going on a fanfiction updating spree, I suppose. I'll admit, Lois is not very happy with Clark in this chapter, but don't worry, she'll get over it. **

**ENJOY! **

* * *

_CHAPTER SIX - THE BIG STORY_

Much to the chagrin of her coworkers, Lois's office is probably the second best in the building - after Perry's, of course. The window behind her desk provides a stunning view of the entire city, with the harbor clear in view. Oftentimes, when Lois would work late, she would be greeted with a sunset like no other, during which the sun would descend behind the Metropolis skyscrapers and seemingly be swallowed by the ocean.

However, her eyes are now completely diverted from the window. Instead, they are entirely focused on her laptop, where she is researching a very...interesting and untraditional topic for a new story.

Of course, she has not forgotten her main goal, which is to lock Lex Luthor behind bars and throw away the key. But when there's a story this big...this _unbelievable_...well, she can't let someone else have all the glory. Especially when that someone is a sneaky, two-faced, little farmboy from the middle of no-

Lois takes a deep breath and continues typing rigorously, thus letting her anger dissipate. She won't give him the satisfaction of seeing her mad...or more mad than he's already seen her, that is. In fact, with all the fits she's been throwing lately, she'll bet that she's making pageant girls look mellow to a lot of her coworkers. So this time, she'll do what she usually does: work harder and _do better _than those around her, not tantrum.

Including _stupid Clark Kent._

Clark Kent...the man she grossly underestimated when it came to journalism. Who upstaged her during what was supposed to be her great return to the Daily Planet. Some rookie he turned out to be, she thinks bitterly, when he pulled the rug out from under her like a pro.

After the Lexcorp fiasco, Lois was breathless and exhilarated, left in complete and utter awe in the wake of her encounter with the flying man. She should have ran faster to a cab, or paid the taxi driver quadruple the price for quadruple the speed. That's what any half-brained reporter would do, with a story this big. After all, this flying guy was practically a real-life Hercules.

Instead, she had to give a freaking statement to the police. Stupid decision, really. She probably could have saved the information for a story, but then she'd probably get into another lawsuit for withholding information from an investigation. After all, this was practically a terrorist attack, and she felt morally obligated to do something.

After discussing the flying man with an officer for a few minutes, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Police Captain Maggie Sawyer - a tall, commanding woman with close cut blonde hair - who tapped the officer on the shoulder.

"There are some pedestrians over there that need questioning. Go attend to them," Maggie ordered, and the officer left without protest.

"Lane," Sawyer greeted stoically, as she usually did. They had met several times before, from whenever Lois covered the crime beat. "People say that this...flying man saved you personally. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Do you know him?"

"Never seen him before, as far as I know, and he didn't tell me anything. All I know is that he's hot, helpful, and able to fly," Lois droned, her disinterest evident. "Can I go now?"

Maggie paused. "Were you outside the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Smoke break."

"Since when do you smoke?"

Lois shifted her shoulder uncomfortably, the motion subconscious. Maggie's eyes were then attracted to Lois's wound. She must have remembered what had happened to her, and immediately backed off from the question, a humiliating sort of pity in her eyes. Maggie was a police officer after all. She has probably been through her fair share of trauma, and left Lois to whatever coping mechanisms that best suited her.

"My turn," Lois said after clearing her throat. "What happened here?"

Maggie sighed, but returned the favor of giving information. "Someone stole a whole cache of weapons from the Lexcorp shipping lanes, then set off explosives. The destruction was a diversion to secure their escape. Smart and horrible plan, to be honest. When there's that much devastation, no one's gonna pay attention to a suspicious looking car."

"...Lexcorp shipping lanes, huh?" Lois echoed. She suddenly remembered the truck that the dog had been barking at, and the man that had winked at her. His platinum hair and abundant piercings.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Yeah...you didn't see anything, did you? And don't hold out on me, Lois. That never works out for either of us.

In a matter of minutes, Lois had given her description to a sketch artist, who managed to create a pretty accurate rendition of the man she had seen. In truth, the police statement hadn't taken that long. But it ended up being a catastrophic amount of time for the story she had planned.

When Lois finally meandered back to the Planet and burst into Perry's office, she was greeted with the same sight she saw earlier that day - Perry, at his desk, and Clark, in a chair.

Regardless, Lois stumbled forward a bit frantically. "Chief, man-oh-man, do I have a story for you!" she practically beamed, waving her arms with excitement. "And not like the typical 'Mayor Berkowitz was caught with a prostitute' type of story. I'm talking about the kind of stuff that you'd normally find on page 25 of the Inquisitor, it's so outlandish. Except this..._this is real_. I just saw...was just saved...by a man _who can fly_."

When she finished, she wasn't quite sure what she was expecting. Maybe a "Great Caesar's Ghost!" from Perry, or an inquiry about whether she was feeling alright, considering that her tale sounded like something from the Twilight Zone.

Instead, Perry and Clark looked totally unimpressed. Clark just pulled a bit on his collar and cleared his throat, discomfort somehow evident on his normally inscrutable face. Perry rolled his eyes rather obviously. At the time, she thought they just didn't believe her.

"Perry, would I ever lie?" she sputtered. "If I was any closer to the angel of truth, I'd be that fairy from Pinocchio."

Perry pinched the bridge of his nose and delivered the figurative kick in the gut. "Lois, Kent beat you to the story. It's already online."

Incredulous, Lois's eyes snapped toward Clark, who seemed to sink into his chair a bit. "S-sorry, Lois," he apologized tremulously (or pretended to, as Lois assumed, since the guy clearly had no reservations). "I didn't know you wanted it."

She proceeded to argue with Perry for over an hour, trying to get him to budge to no avail - to let her write the story or at least _share_ it. After all - she had met the flying man first hand. Had even talked to him. She had experienced every single second of that story, yet somehow, Clark Kent had perfectly accurate details on it? It just wasn't possible.

"Corroborated eyewitness accounts," Clark explained to her. "If you say 'allegedly' enough, they're a perfectly acceptable form of information."

How he managed to interview so many people so quickly, Lois may never know. But her only real contribution to the story ended up being, of all things, _a photo credit_. Somehow, the image on her phone ended up being remarkably clear. Perry was practically ecstatic to get photographic evidence, swearing that the Associated Press would be seething with jealousy.

They weren't the only ones, Lois thought bitterly. She too was seething internally; her fist ready to cut across Clark Kent's farm-boy face. Maybe tear his ugly hat into shreds. But then she realized that the latter action may actually improve the quality of that ugly hat, so she refrained.

Clark, meanwhile, showed his true colors by refusing to add the picture to his article.

"Chief, d-don't you think this guy would seem more mysterious without it? I mean-"

Perry waved him off, of course. "And by more mysterious, you mean more like Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster? Kid, people need proof, and this provides it marvelously."

"Yeah, Kent," Lois retorted, her hands placed firmly at her hips to prevent them from _strangling_ Clark. "You can't have all the glory."

Shortly thereafter, Perry quite literally shoved them out of his office, laughing heartily. "I knew it was a good idea - keeping the two of you. Keep this up, and you'll be the next Woodward and Bernstein."

Perry's door closed with a slam, as did any possibility of Lois ever being partners with a _worm_ like Clark Kent.

Presently, Lois is trying to top Clark's completely boring article, which, despite its meticulous grammar and written aesthetic, lacks the sort of a glamour that a real story requires. Kent can write like a poet, she'll give him that - but unfortunately, he's a reporter, and he needs to write like one.

A copy of his article sits beside her computer, and upon glancing at it, she can't help lamenting the lack of drama. Honestly, where's the suspense? Where's the lionization of the flying man's actions? Where's the _sexiness_?

"_DISASTER AT LEXCORP TOWERS," _it reads blandly, almost as if she can hear Clark's disinterest. "_MYSTERY MAN SAVES THE DAY." _

Mystery man? Lois scoffs internally. He's not just _any_ mystery man - he's a man who can _fly_, for God's sake. But _apparently_ Kent didn't find that revolutionary enough to include in his headline, for some unfathomable reason. After all, it's not like they have these kind of guys flying around Kansas, right? So would it have killed him to write with a little _enthusiasm_? God knows Lois would have...if she had been given the effing chance.

It doesn't matter now, she supposes. Her recent research will practically slingshot Clark's story into obscurity, even if his broke the news of the flying man's existence.

Even now, as she searches for more, an overstuffed folder of evidence sits on the other side of her computer, across from Clark's article.

Suddenly, there is a knock at her door. Lois's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing, evidently getting ready to scream at the intruder that has come to pester her.

Jimmy stands there, already prepared to run. He knows better than anyone that Lois hates to be interrupted.

"What?" she demands.

"Perry's holding a meeting."

"So?"

"He wants you to be there."

"Well, we all want things we can't get, don't we?" she retorts with unsuppressed bitterness. A pointed swig from an oversized coffee mug is added for dramatic effect.

Jimmy ventures further into her office, pulling nervously on his bow tie. "You're not still mad at Clark, are you? The guy's really nice. If he knew you wanted the story so badly, he probably would have given it to you."

Lois sighs, switching her attention back to her computer screen. Her index finger bores into the enter button, which signals the nearby copier to start printing out her recent work.

"I don't want to be _given_ a story, Jimmy."

"So what's the problem?"

She stands and marches to the copier, where she checks the papers. They seem to be in order. Meanwhile, Jimmy stands waiting for her, expectant of an answer.

Of course, he has a point. In truth, why is she so angry? Is it really Clark's fault that he won the byline? It's ridiculous for her to react in any negative way at all - hypocritical, even. She would have done the same thing in his position, and quite plainly would have ordered her coworkers to _suck it_. And Lois...Lois always liked to think of herself as the kind of person who can dish it out _and_ take it - not that anyone else could dish anything out at her speed or level of efficiency.

Nonetheless, she is utterly angry. That she is sure of. Angry at what, she tries to identify.

Angry at Lex, for sure. Angry at the men in Qurac. Angry at her father for always belittling her. Angry at Perry for hiring someone to replace her. Angry at herself, for making more mistakes than she can ever hope to fix.

Because at the root of all her problems is one, irremovable factor - herself. There's no denying it - every mishap she has experienced could have somehow been avoided if she had just acted differently.

Jimmy is still waiting, but Lois will not give her answer. It sounds cliche and self-pitying, and she knows that everyone already thinks she is a ticking time bomb. There's no need to substantiate their criticisms.

Luckily, she is rescued by a roar from outside her office.

"LANE!" Perry booms. "I'LL GIVE YOU TEN SECONDS TO GET IN THIS CONFERENCE ROOM OR I SWEAR-!"

Grabbing her research as she sprints out of the room, Lois calls back: "Coming chief! Jeez, don't have a coronary. If you do, I'd probably be made editor, and then _where would we be_?"

Though reporters differ in physical traits, there are identifiable...similarities between them. Each one has a bold sort of energy, a loudness in his or her voice, a tendency to ask questions that are probing or embarrassing, a crudeness of language, an affinity for a cup of joe, and an extreme hatred of computers given their tendency to misplace information.

And despite its large size, the Daily Planet's entire staff of such reporters manages to crowd into the conference room.

With so many people of such vibrant personality squished together, it's only natural that the room becomes practically deafening with the sound of human voices. There is an overwhelming aroma of coffee beans that also becomes apparent, along with the scents of sweat and tobacco.

Meetings like this are rare, of course, given how unbearable the room becomes after a few minutes. The only time they are held is when a huge story breaks - one that could involve every facet of the news company. And if there's anything that fits that description, it's the flying man. Lois is sure of it.

The Planet's antiquated projector whirs to life, making sounds that are more than indicative of a pending breakdown or perhaps even a fire. Despite its struggles, it somehow manages to project an image onto a yellowing screen. There is clearly some discoloration, but Lois recognizes the picture instantly - the flying man.

She was right, as usual.

"Alright people!" Perry barks, his voice somehow more than audible over the din. "Cut the chatter!"

The room falls silent.

"Forgot you people could even shut your mouths, given the yapping I hear all day," he growls before continuing. "So, you've probably heard by now, given Kent's article and the news from...I don't know..._everywhere-_"

"Who's 'Kent'?" Cat Grant - the society columnist - asks, seeming genuinely confused and unfamiliar with the name. She twirls her blonde hair absentmindedly, her lipstick-stained lips slightly parted to further evidence her bafflement.

_Oh god, _Lois thinks, _how oblivious can you get? _

Clark, who stands across the conference table from Lois, raises a tentative hand and clears his throat. In response, Cat's eyes glance him over, apparently unable to place him.

"Is he new?" she whispers not-so-quietly to Ron Troupe, who stands beside her. To Lois's surprise, Ron shrugs and admits that he's never seen him before. Even worse, other people also subtly voice their failure to recognize him. Are her coworkers really _that_ unobservant, or Clark so utterly uninteresting that they've erased his existence from their minds?

Perry rubs his temple, sighing audibly. "Great Caesar's Ghost, people! You're supposed to be journalists, but you haven't noticed that Kent's been working here for months?"

"It's okay chief," Clark says softly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "I tend to fade into the background. It's fine."

"For the record, I noticed!" Jimmy calls out, pointing to Clark and giving him a look that declares _I got your back_.

"NOBODY CARES, OLSEN," Perry screams, proceeding to violently point to the picture on the projector. "Long story short - there was a big disaster at Lexcorp, and somehow, this man _quite literally flew in _and saved the day."

There is some not-so-quiet murmuring among the staff before one reporter questions, "What do you mean 'fly'? Like with a helicopter? Or a jetpack?"

Perry's hand smacks the screen again. "Does it look like he's using a helicopter to you? I'm talkin' about flying as in _floating_. Above the ground. With no suspension at all."

"But that's not possible."

"No frickin' duh! Why do you think we're all here? I haven't even gotten to the part where he held up half of the Lexcorp Tower with his bare hands!"

For once, the room falls silence of its own accord, without Perry's insistence. Each reporter strains their neck to get a good look at the photographic evidence. Within this space there is an implicit, collective realization that something like this could be big. Perhaps beyond big. Perhaps the biggest story of the century.

Ron Troupe scratches his chin as he scrutinizes the picture. "Is he legit?" he inquires. "Did anyone get up close to check if he's a fraud? That he doesn't have any equipment helping him do this?"

Lois speaks up. "Oh, he's legit all right. I was almost trapped under the collapsing overhang, but he saved me just in time. This photo is from yours truly, just before it happened."

"No wires? Anything to indicate a connection to Lexcorp? Maybe it was a publicity stunt," Ron continues, his arms crossing.

The latter was certainly a despicable thought to Lois, though there was some logic behind it. It would have been a spectacular way to reveal some sort of Lexcorp, military-intended super-suit, by having it piloted by a gorgeous man who is all too eager to help. And for some reason, the idea of the flying man being in Luther's pocket makes her sick beyond belief. It's a good thing she knows it to be untrue, given her research.

"I'm pretty sure this...man...whatever abilities he may possess, is...for a lack of a better word… a real-life _superhero_," Lois asserts, pulling out a folder from under her arm. She opens it and begins to read.

"Two months ago, a subway's brakes began to fail while it was traveling at breakneck speeds. For the people on board, it seemed like a crash was imminent. Imminent, that is, until the train skidded to a safe stop. The conductors were later recorded babbling about a man who had suddenly appeared and pushed against the train until it slowed. Reporters chalked it up to a stress-induced hallucination, yet there were some suspicious looking dents on the front of the train.

"One week later, a little girl played too close to an open window and fell head first from an apartment ten stories up. A few seconds later she was back in her apartment, claiming to be saved by a blue angel with red wings.

"The next week, a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, and his eighteen-wheeler nearly spiraled into an orphanage. A few witnesses swore they saw that same angel swoop in and push the truck back onto the road. There are, of course, about ten more accounts of different incidents, but I think you get the point," Lois finishes, closing the folder with a flourish.

When she looks up, she sees that her coworkers are speechless as they try to absorb the information. Meanwhile, Clark is leaning forward, his interest - or perhaps jealousy - almost palpable as his inscrutable eyes bore into her face. Her thorough research has clearly discomforted him quite a bit, probably because it displays her superiority as a reporter.

"How...how did you find all that?" Clark stammers, his voice incredulous. It is a tone that demonstrates intense amazement but nervousness at the same time. Perhaps he is worried about the looming competition between him and Lois (a competition that Lois will ultimately win). But for some reason...she suspects that he is nervous for some other reason. One that she can't place.

"It's called investigative journalism," Lois says nonchalantly. "You all should try it sometime."

"Lois, I could kiss you!" Perry beams. "That's great stuff! If we can prove that this guy's been around for a while, even without our realization, it makes the story even more believable."

Troupe continues speculating. "Seems like this guy likes to stay hidden, despite his apparent altruism. So why show himself now?"

"Mr. Troupe's got a point," Clark interjects quickly, his voice a bit louder than usual. Maybe because of that nervousness. "He probably didn't mean to show himself. Maybe we should back off, leave him to this 'unknown good-samaritan' thing. That way the mystery stays, and the story is a continuing source of interest."

Perry shakes his head forcefully. "What? And risk USA Today discovering his secrets before we do? Over my dead body. Here's what we're gonna do: Lane publishes the stuff on his past deeds, which gives this guy more credibility. Then we find out his name, his address, the cologne he likes, gay or straight, boxers or briefs - everything we can find. Everyone loves a hero - especially ones larger than life. And this guy is _most definitely_ larger than life. He'll sell papers. I can feel it."

Clark refuses to accept Perry's orders. "But what about the explosions at Lexcorp? We still don't know who caused them. If we want those criminals caught-"

"Don't worry, Kent," Lois interrupts. "I saw one of the guys and gave a description the police. They'll have the investigation under control."

"You _saw_ them?"

Perry slams his fist on a nearby table. "Who the hell cares? We'll report when they actually find something. Right now, we need information on this S-clad-"

"Superman," Lois finishes for him with a shrug, finding the name fitting of a such a super-powered, good looking man - especially one with the letter s displayed so hugely on his chest.

There is a brief pause among the staff, during which the entire group considers the name.

"Su-per-man," Perry repeats, testing the name on his lips. "'_Superman saves the day_.' Heh. I like it, Lane! Use that in your article!"

"Got it chief."

"Well, what are the rest of you waiting for? Get to work!" Perry yells, pointing to the nearby cubicles and offices outside of the room.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	8. Chapter Seven - Superman

**A/N**

**DISCLAIMER: OBVIOUSLY I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN RELATED**

**Heyyyy I'm back **

**Did you guys see the sdcc Batman v. Superman trailer? I'm so conflicted because I really dislike vs. things with superheroes (I mean IT'S PRETTY MUCH COUNTERPRODUCTIVE THEY ALL WANT TO HELP PEOPLE) but there's also CLOIS in it and WONDER WOMAN and maybe some WONDERBAT being hinted at which I LOVEEEEE so idk how to feel basically**

**Anyway enjoy he next installment of this fic. Thank you for being understanding about my limited time for writing. Unfortunately, my Guardians of the Galaxy fic also takes first priority because that one was out first. This one's for my own enjoyment though, and I hope you guys are liking it. **

* * *

_CHAPTER SEVEN - SUPERMAN_

Once Lois's story hits the internet and the stands, it was like Metropolis began to undergo a dramatic change. It sounds corny, of course - especially to someone like Lois - to say that people are perhaps beginning to believe in miracles. But there is a certain...mystical aspect to the city now. People keep glancing at the sky, for instance.

Whenever Lois walks on the streets, she hears people talking as well. "Wonder when Superman's gonna show up again," she caught one old man saying. "God knows we need more people like him."

What the man was referring to - Superman's powers or altruism - Lois was unsure.

But if people are accepting of him, Lois suspects that it might draw him out of hiding. It's certainly understandable why he normally remains discreet. With all that power...well, it would probably eliminate all semblances of a normal life. Not to mention other possibilities - that he is a scientific experiment of some sort, or perhaps the result of an odd genetic mutation. Possibilities that could attract probing scientists and government officials of all kinds.

That latter part worries her - she's worried that this 'Superman' will be whisked away before he has the chance to help anyone else. She somewhat wishes that she had denied his existence in the first place, so that he could continue his 'mission' undeterred. But when all those pedestrians witnessed his deeds at Lexcorp, the best thing she could do for him was a positive press portrayal. Popularity, she hopes, will keep third parties from making forceful attempts at...doing whatever it is that they do to people that powerful.

Soon she is struck by her strange protectiveness of this man - this Superman. A man that she had only shared a few words and glances with. Why has her mind been so consumed with him lately?

Maybe she feels indebted to him. Maybe a bit inspired by him. The idea that someone is trying to help people...unconditionally, with no agenda, not even fame - is wonderful.

Then again, Lois knows she should be cautious. She has met false knights in shining armor before. Her father was one, with his perfect all-American General schtick, despite the serious secrets he kept from the public. Then there was Lex, with his promise to somehow 'protect' the world with his deadly weapons. It would typical for Superman to be a lie, in his own special way.

* * *

When Superman appears again, the day is almost surreal.

It is one of those days that are expected to end in tragedy, when the press are sent to the scene with nervousness in their stomachs. News like that, despite what some people think, never yields satisfaction for reporters, no matter how many papers it sells or online hits it gets.

Lois and Jimmy stand pressed against a police barricade with about a hundred other journalists, their necks craning to see what is happening. Jimmy has to push, shove, and raise his camera way over his head to get a good look. No one talks, though, because the tension is far too overwhelming. In fact, it seems rude to make any sound at all, for this part of the city is almost as hallowed as the grounds of a graveyard. Maybe because it is so close to becoming one.

Though many facts are unclear, some of the most horrifying are crystal cut - there is a bomb-wielding man inside the History Museum, one with a past of violence and instability, who is currently holding the visitors hostage. Many of those visitors are children on field trips, since the museum was allowing schools to pay half-price today. Overall, the verdict is this: a lot of people are in danger, and there is little anyone can do about it.

So far, negotiations have been utterly unsuccessful. The mayor is out of town on vacation, and thus cannot transfer money from city funds to meet the criminal's exorbitant demands, given the police's inability to contact him. They have become desperate as a result - reaching out to anyone and everyone who might be able to donate some sort of money. Unfortunately, most people did not even realize that this was happening, and did not respond.

Lois bites the end of her pen in nervousness, feeling rage heat her cheeks. Where were the security guards when this happened? Where are SWAT teams now? Most of all, why isn't mayor here? Are people so nonchalant about death that they simply continue their vacations when it occurs in their own backyards?

Her bullet wound seems to flare with pain just thinking about it. Just another disaster to swept under the rug. _Too bad so sad_, people will think, before they return to their mindless internet searches or reality television. It's something she has experienced before; too many times, in fact.

A little ways off, in front of the sleek, steel plated museum entrance, she sees Maggie Sawyer juggling several phones at once. A few snippets of conversation are audible as she stamps her foot angrily on the concrete.

"The feds were due here ten minutes ago!" Maggie screams into the first one. "I want them standing beside me in twenty seconds or _I swear_ I will take this up with Washington. There are _children_ in there, and the guy's holed them up in the basement, out of our reach!"

She hangs up and transfers her attention to the second phone, which was probably put on hold. "Yes, I am still here, Mr. Mandoly. We are still trying to attain the money you have requested. Just stay calm, and I assure you that this will be sorted out."

Suddenly, a strong wind pushes through the crowd and the throng of policemen crowding the museum, whipping Lois's dark hair around her face. It breaks through the glass doors at breakneck speeds, and for a moment, she swears it is tinted blue.

"What the hell was that?" Maggie yells, staring after it.

To answer her question, a body is thrown through those freshly broken doors, and skids to a sitting stop at the Captain's feet. She gawks down at it, stunned.

Somehow, it's the criminal from inside the building, bound by a bent pipe around his arms and legs. He looks up and returns Maggie's look, except his is _fearful_ and surprised.

"H-How…?" Maggie stammers, before snapping her focus back to the Art Deco doors, where someone is emerging.

Make that more than one person. The children and the other guests pour from the entrance, many of them crying from relief. Some of them find familiar faces in the crowd and embrace them. Lois sees one woman jump into the arms of blonde-haired man, and they proceed to kiss passionately.

The distraction she finds in them is soon completely forgotten as the last two people emerge from the museum. One is a small boy, his face tear-stained, and his arms clinging to the neck of the second person - someone who is clad in blue and literally _floats_ them both out of the museum.

Superman.

Everyone is rendered speechless and stupefied. Luckily, Jimmy regains his wits and snaps a picture immediately. Lois simply knows that it will be the front page.

She continues to watch as Superman carries the boy to Captain Sawyer, landing right in front of her. "It's okay," he says softly, smiling encouragingly to the boy. "You can let go now. These nice officers are going to bring you back to your parents."

The little boy sniffles and unlatches his hands. When Superman is done gently placing him on the ground, he turns his attention to Maggie.

"Captain," Superman greets seriously, getting straight to business. "I'm sorry if I surprised your officers, but I was merely trying to avoid bloodshed. I hope this won't impair any dealings we have in the future."

"Uh," Maggie falters, her eyes trying to make sense of the sight in front of her. It is clear that Superman is a daunting figure, even to someone as experienced as her. His muscular figure, blue uniform, flapping red cape, and disarming good looks create an aura of something...otherworldly. It is no wonder why Maggie finds herself caught off guard, even if Lois knows that the woman prefers women to men. The reality is that Superman, in any other situation, seems like a product of mythology, not of real-life events.

Eventually, though (after a good thirty seconds), Maggie manages to shake her head and point accusingly at him. "You...whatever you are...interfered with a police matter! People could have been killed!"

_And would have been, if he hadn't come,_ Lois thinks furiously. For some reason, she cannot get the pleasing sight of Superman helping that little boy out of her head. She knows she shouldn't be so quick to trust...to make judgements. But somehow Lois feels that Superman deserves her support - at least right now. Right now he is a hero.

People in the crowd echo the sentiment, booing Maggie's all-too-loud reprimand.

"He just saved all those people!" one person screams. "Leave him alone!"

When sounds of agreement fill the air, Lois joins in. Indeed, he deserves acclaim, not criticism. Anyone can see that.

Superman does not respond to the crowd's antics, nor does he answer the Captain's last question. "Frankly, Captain, I am confident in my abilities, just as you are confident in many of your officers' abilities. Now…" he gestures to the criminal, "he is unharmed, just bound. I leave him in your capable hands."

He then turns to the building. "As for his bomb, I left it deactivated in the museum's basement. I assume that your bomb squad is well-equipped to dispose of it in a manner you deem fit."

Maggie just gawks at him, unsure of what to say or do. The situation, above all, seems unreal - impossible. But it is possible. And somehow, in someway, _he_ is too.

She turns to the bomb squad leader. "Well?" she demands. "Go find the thing! And be alert!"

Maggie then returns her attention to Superman, trying to find a less reproachful way of admonishing him. "You..you shouldn't have done that. The police had it...or were trying to have it...under control. And you, a c-civilian, just flew in there, and...and-"

When she fails to articulate anything else of meaning, Superman just nods respectfully and begins floating again.

"Again, I hope I haven't interfered with police procedures too much. I was really just trying to get this people out safely. I sincerely hope that, in the future, there will be no further situations that requires my aid."

With that, he begins to fly away at a relatively slow speed. The people in the crowd cheer and applaud loudly as he passes by, shouting things like "You go Superman!" or "Thank you, big blue!"

He gives them a small salute and a modest smile before he picks up speed. Before he zips off entirely, Lois swears she makes eye contact with him - eye contact with those beautiful blue irises for a full three seconds. They are moments of complete wonderment, and during them, Lois feels her cheeks heat up with something other than rage. Something like embarrassment...or bashfulness...

Then he is gone.

_You should know better,_ Lois thinks to herself, angry at her body and subconscious for creating betraying her in such a way. _This'll just make things worse when the other shoe drops. _

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	9. Chapter Eight - Reminders

_CHAPTER EIGHT - REMINDERS_

The break room, of course, is a very special place to Lois - a sacred temple, even, with its abundance of coffee and pastries. In the mornings, she likes to enjoy quiet moments here, especially when it means escaping her otherwise distracting office.

It also happens to have an exceptionally large trashcan in the far corner, where she can dispose of the enormous vase of white roses that Lex sent to her.

Upon finding them waiting tauntingly on her sloppy desk, all pristine and regal, Lois felt like she was being smacked with Lex's arrogance. Sadly, with all the fuss around Superman, she temporarily abandoned her pending piece on that billionaire brat. _Temporarily_.

Alright, who was she kidding? She had almost forgotten it entirely. There were always a few times each night, when she would remember and promise herself that she would work on that article in the morning. But with Superman on the front of each newspaper or on the main page of each website, she tended to be a little forgetful.

But not anymore. Now Lex was practically mocking her, with those little flowers. Saying that he knows that she has already given up, and that no matter what, he will always be as spotless as those white roses. Because he has money. Because he has _prestige._

_Beloved Lois, _its card read. _Let us make amends. Call me. _

Make amends? Or, in actuality, did he want her to come around to Lex's way of thinking? Neither options were possible.

Furious, Lois practically storms into the room and, with her best fastball throw, tosses the entire vase into the tin garbage container. It's a satisfying metaphor, she thinks - symbolic of what she will do to Lex. She will rightfully drag his name through the dirt, just like how she is dropping those roses into the grody Daily Planet trash can.

With a misplaced sense of accomplishment, Lois proceeds to pour herself a cup of coffee. The liquid is bitter and unappetizing, but it fits her mood at the moment, so she refrains from adding sugar or milk.

Her wallowing in bitterness is soon interrupted, however, by the entrance of Cat Grant and Clark Kent - interlopers that Lois cannot help but resent a bit. But nonetheless, they seem like an odd pair to be associating with one another. If anything the two people are polar opposites.

Clark's outfits, Lois has noticed, are always the same, with all-too-baggy suit pieces and that ugly hat pulled down over his eyes. Meanwhile, Cat's outfit is a bit gaudy, consisting of a sequined blazer, a white blouse, and a dark pink skirt. Somehow, though, she always makes it look good, which is why every man at the Planet practically drools over her. Lois suspects that Clark is well on his own way to sharing that sentiment.

"Are you sure you've been here for months?" Cat says with a toss of her blond hair. "I mean, I'm usually a pretty observant person. I'm a journalist after all."

Lois stirs her coffee discreetly from the corner, internally voicing her doubts regarding the journalistic legitimacy of the society section - where Grant contributes.

Clark chuckles a bit and heads to one of the cabinets by the kitchenette. "Positive."

Cat sits on top of one of the wooden tables, her legs crossed. "God, sorry about not noticing. You're just so quiet, you know?"

Before, he responds, he shuffles through the cabinet for a while. Finally, he pulling out a tin of hot chocolate powder.

"So I've been told." He begins to look around the room, evidently searching for something. Eventually, his head turns toward Lois and settles there.

"Oh," he flounders. "Hi, Lois."

She returns the greeting and hopes his attention on her goes back to Cat.

Sadly, after a few minutes of continuous staring, Lois realizes that her wish will remain ungranted unless she takes action.

Accordingly, she demands: "Is there a problem, Smallville?" An eyeroll accompanies the question.

He looks uncomfortable, as always. "No, not at all. It's just…"

"What?"

Clark points to the mug clasped in Lois's hands. "That's, uh, my mug. It was a gift from my parents, actually." His other hand proceeds to rub the back of his neck, like he is nervous. Maybe he thinks that she is always considering hitting him. After his article on Superman, he'd be crazy to think otherwise.

Lois usually takes whatever mug is on the counter, regardless of what her co-workers think. However, nobody usually has the guts to complain to her, or maybe they just don't care that much. Their apathy is probably due to the lack of sentimentality that normal people attach to coffee mugs. Unfortunately, Clark does not seem to fit into portion of the status quo.

She brings the cup close to her face, finally seeing the design along its sides. It's painted with thick red and blue letters, which read: _Smallville's #1 Reporter_.

It's kind of sweet, she thinks - in a revoltingly mushy way. But she also supposes that if it means something to him, she probably shouldn't use it without his permission

"Aww…" Cat coos when she sees it clearly. "It's so cute! I wish my parents had done that for me when I joined the staff."

Lois mumbles an apology as she transfers her coffee to Jimmy's cup (one that she knows he won't complain about), rinses Clark's mug, and hands it back to him.

"Thanks," Clark says as he begins to make his drink.

The room descends into an uncomfortable silence - one that Cat cannot possibly bear.

"So Lois," Cat begins. "From what I've read in your articles, you've seen Superman up close."

"Yeah, I guess I have."

Cat jumps up from the table and stands right in front of her. "Okay, so my hairstylist saw him at the museum thing."

Lois raises her eyebrows. "You mean that hostage situation?"

"Yeah, that. She says his six pack is like 100% visible through that suit he wears. Is that true?"

Clark visibly goes rigid, stopping mid stir on his hot chocolate. Lois, meanwhile, takes a moment to consider Cat's words. Right before she begins to laugh them off, she stops herself as a new realization sets in.

Lois registers quite suddenly and disturbingly that she knows the answer to that incredibly inappropriate question, and it is a resounding yes. It would be a lie to say that she didn't look at least once, when she had the chance. But only now does she realize how ridiculous she was to do so.

Lois stares intensely at her coffee, desperately trying to fight the blush forming on her cheeks. "Yeah." Her throat is suddenly very dry, and she clears it loudly. "I guess you can see it pretty clearly."

Cat giggles, and despite how silly this conversation is, Lois enjoys it a bit. It is nice to know that she isn't the only one who noticed Superman's attractiveness, and Cat is _pleasant_ despite her tendency to gossip.

"I suppose you called him 'Superman' for a reason, Lois. What about his bu-"

Clark coughs so loudly that Cat jumps a bit. The sound's interruption brings Lois to her senses, and she regains her professionalism.

"There's still so much we don't know about him, though," Lois points out. "I'd trade my press pass to get an interview with him."

"Who wouldn't?" Cat responds wistfully, shooting a glare at Clark, who is facing the kitchen cabinets to give them some semblance of a private conversation. Regardless, he is clearly uncomfortable.

"No, Cat, not because of that. I want a real interview. I mean, the police are considering putting out a warrant for him, for vigilantism."

"That's crazy!"

"Well, lately he's been stopping robberies and other things, so it's no wonder. But there are other reasons too. For all we know, he could be some sort of human weapon, trying to gain our trust before he turns against us," Lois explains, feeling a certain coldness in her chest for even speculating such horrible things. "Maybe if he told us more about himself, we could make a better judgement."

"True, true," Cat comments, before looking at the gold watch wrapped around her wrist. "But he seems pretty reluctant to give an interview."

"Unfortunately, yeah."

Cat begins to turn around, speaking as she does so.

"Alright, Lois. I've got a deadline in twenty minutes. If you ever that get that interview with you-know-who, give him my number."

"You know, I don't think the odds are in our favor."

"On the off-chance, then. See ya!"

Cat walks out with a wave, her shoes clacking against the tiles.

Lois and Clark are alone now, and he finally rips his stare away from the cabinets. There is a blush on his cheeks, very light but visible nonetheless.

After a few moments of quietude, she chuckles and asks: "Ever hear girl-talk before, Smallville?"

He pulls on his collar. "Yeah."

"You always react this badly?"

"No, definitely not always. But I'd appreciate a change in subject."

Lois sets her empty coffee cup on the counter. "Fine. What would you find interesting?"

Clark looks taken aback by her willingness to talk with him. In fact, so is Lois. But she figures she'll humor him.

"Actually," he says, "I've been meaning to ask you about something you saw during -"

"LOIS!" Perry's voice calls from outside the break room. "WHY AREN'T YOU IN YOUR OFFICE? DON'T YOU HAVE AN ARTICLE DUE?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Lois yells as she storms out of the room. "I sent it to you already, chief! Don't you know how to use your damn email?"

* * *

_Sand everywhere. Embedded in her skin. Blocking her nostrils. Mixing with her blood. Dying. She is _dying in the sand_. The people around her are dead, in the sand. _

Lois wakes with a start, gasping and grasping her shoulder, as if the bullet has freshly torn its way through. Shaking heavily, her fingers brush over the coarse skin, feeling for the blood of a reopening, or perhaps even the hot sand particles that haunt her subconscious. As far as she can tell, there is nothing but the scar.

Unfortunately, Lois is experiencing scars beyond the physical.

She is relieved to find that she is in her bed, not suffocating in Qurac, as her mind had fabricated. There is little else she can dream of other than that horrible event. Every night, she relives it blow for blow, moment for moment, with each jolt of fear and despair as impactful as the first time. Though she has moved past many of her problems, the nightmares remain relentless. They torture her every night, reminding her that tragedy can strike anytime, anywhere.

The pale lights of the city pour through her window - a comfort, almost, in comparison with the hot sun she remembers from that day. She focuses on those lights - the passing glare of cars and taxis - as she regulates her breathing to a normal level.

Lois's hand still rests on the bullet wound. She is considerably calmer now, sitting upright in her bed, her eyes trained on the window in contemplation.

It is during these times of night that Lois becomes sure of two things: first, that Lex has to pay for what he has done. And second… second is the firm realization that she shouldn't be alive.

The psychologists on the internet can call it survivor's guilt or whatnot, and perhaps chalk it up to a temporary condition or some aspect of PTSD… but that does not make her realization any less true. What right does Lois have to live while all those people died? What exactly is so fantastic about Lois's future that she earned the title of 'sole survivor?' It makes no sense. Someone in that village could have cured cancer. Or negotiated world peace. But the powers-that-be decided that, out of everyone there, Lois was the one to keep around? How ridiculous is that?

Just thinking about it drives her crazy. Utterly fed up, Lois throws her covers off of her body and stands. Right now, she feels like indulging in a bad habit and escaping the confining walls of her room.

A balled-up jacket, her phone, a lighter, and a package of cigarettes rest on her dresser, awaiting her. Soon enough, the jacket is over her shoulders, and the rest of the items are shoved into her pockets.

Despite the annoyance of the elevator, there are merits to living on the top floor of the building. For instance, the roof access is mostly unrestricted. Prior to Clark's move into the building, her old neighbor used to smoke pretty illicit things up there. Once he left, however, Lois assumed that the area was completely open to tenants, so she utilizes it as such (though it's probably not allowed, per se, but she can always plead ignorance).

She tip toes out of her room and pushes her way outside, onto the flat roof of the apartment complex. A cool wind immediately greets her, pushing her hair around her face in a small frenzy. The feeling is pleasant - refreshing and invigorating. It temporarily pushes those negative emotions out of her psyche, allowing her to revel in the reality of just _being_. Being without purpose or questions or vengeance in her blood. Thus, her eyes close, and the chorus of city sounds allows her to escape herself by getting lost in the vastness of the world around her.

But questions soon invade her mind again, like they do to any uncompromising reporter, so Lois resolves to take a quick smoke and go back to bed. She has work tomorrow, after all.

She unsheathes a cigarette from the package and lights it. Once again, she is struck by how simultaneously unpleasant and comforting the action feels. There is, of course, that little piece of her conscience that tells her that smoking is ultimately bad for her, but some greater internal force extinguishes that idea.

Unexpectedly, that conscience becomes louder to Lois, its voice oddly lifelike as it expresses its concerns.

"You really shouldn't smoke, Miss Lane."

Lois's head snaps up as she realizes that the sound is not the result of an active imagination, but the actual voice of someone standing behind her.

When she spins around to see who, prepared to give a justified smack to any ill-intentioned intruder, she is forced to internally correct herself. Because the person behind her is not standing, nor is he even truly behind her. He is floating slightly above her, his red cape billowing behind him like a great pair of red wings, and his blue suit gleaming in the reflective lights of the city.

_Superman. _It's actually _Superman. _

Naturally, Lois's cigarette falls directly from her mouth to the ground.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**I'm gonna start doing author's notes down here. Hope you guys don't mind. Also, just so you guys know, I've actually written the entire story out already, and I'm currently proofreading it. I'm gonna posting one or two chapters a week. **

**It's really long. Like ridiculously long. 32 chapters in total. **

**So if you're up for that, keep going. It gets really romantic, I think, so...**

**This chapter was a filler and a lead-in to the next one, which will be sorta fluffy? Maybe?**


	10. Chapter Nine - Meeting

_CHAPTER NINE - MEETING_

"Um," Lois stammers, trying to make sense of the fact that someone- an incredibly attractive someone, in fact - is literally floating above her _and_ somehow making it look casual. "Can I… can I _help you_?"

Discreetly, she also proceeds to pinch herself on the thigh, just to disprove the likely notion that she is dreaming this encounter, and that at any moment, the fantasy will melt into another rendition of the terrifying scene in Qurac.

So she blinks and and pinches as hard as she can, but no matter what she does, he is still floating there. And suddenly, she is stricken by the fact that she looks like a mess, sporting an old sweatshirt and unkempt hair. It's not that she normally cares about how she looks around people, as indicated by the fact that she caters to her own, unique (and killer) fashion sense. But next to someone who looks like _him_? Well… anyone would be a little self conscious.

Despite her appearance, Superman gives her a modest smile nonetheless, those otherworldly blue eyes trained directly on hers. "Actually," he begins in a resonating voice, "I think you can, Ms. Lane."

Before he continues to address her, he slowly descends to the roof until he is standing just in front of her. Lois's eyes follow his movement with both fascination and caution.

"How?" she whispers mostly to herself as that all-too-familiar warmth returns to her cheeks.

In response, he cuts right to the chase. "Well, as you recall, there was that disaster at Lexcorp. I think you may have some valuable information regarding -"

Lois cuts him off. "That's not what I meant. I _meant_ 'how do you do that?'" She points to his cape, mystified. "How the hell do you _fly_?"

He seems a bit taken aback at her directness, his eyebrows knitting together. "Does it… does it bother you?"

"Not really. But according to my understanding, flying goes against these little things called _the laws of physics_. Every heard of them?"

Thankfully, Superman smirks instead of taking offense. "In fact, I have."

Lois scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. "Well, clearly they haven't heard of you."

"No," he says. "I suppose they haven't." The last part is said a bit quietly, his eyes flitting to the ground like he is embarrassed, even though the smirk still resides on his lips. They stand in silence for a few brief moments with his eyes diverted, and Lois, seeing his short distraction as an opportunity, allows herself to examine him better.

His hair is a sleek, inky black, each strand pulled neatly back to clearly show his chiseled face. Indeed, his appearance is strikingly handsome, further intensified by his prominent chin and cheekbones. But somehow, his features still retain a strange boyishness despite the angularity of his symmetrical features. His eyes, of course, still demonstrate that distracting phosphorescent quality, even when his downcast irises barely peek out from under his lashes.

A small once over reaffirms what she has already discovered - that he is powerfully-built, with muscles that are visible despite the armor or suit or whatnot that he chooses to wear.

Lois begins to wonder how someone who looks like this could possibly hide, or retain any sort of normal life. A face like that, so out in the open, would certainly oust a legitimate identity, or cause a swarm of admirers. Whatever the case, he is unforgettable in every sense of the word, and it's a wonder that he doesn't wear a mask.

"Miss Lane, if you wouldn't mind, I have some important questions to ask you."

With a jolt, Lois realizes that her usual role has switched. Normally, she's the one standing in front of some sloppy politician or bratty millionaire, trying to get questions answered as they gawk or hit on her. But now she is the one uselessly standing here, staring at someone with the sort of undesirable infatuation that is normally directed at her. Realizing how uncomfortable it must be making him, she resolves to stop. Forever.

Besides, she's the one who's supposed to be asking the questions.

"First thing's first, Superman" she says, trying to seem confident, her posture straightening accordingly. And normally, she _is too _confident, to the point where her behavior comes off as arrogant. But for some reason, he makes her feel uncharacteristically shy, which is something rather unprecedented for her - something that she has to avoid. "How exactly do you know who I am?"

Superman's smile grows slightly and he raises his eyebrows. "Well… aren't you the person who conducted the full-scale investigation into my past? Gave me my new name? Took the first picture of me?"

To Lois, his smile now seems a bit rueful, and a sinking feeling appears in her stomach. He's here to tell her stop, she realizes. To make her back off. She has invaded his privacy and he's here to voice his displeasure.

"You're not mad, are you?" she inquires, feeling like she already knows the answer. Her eyes search his face for his true feelings, and she can see him contemplating the question with an expression that suggests uncertainty.

"In the beginning, I was a little frustrated," Superman admits, his arms crossed as if he is protecting himself. It's a strange stance, given all the previous ways she has seen him, with his hands placed proudly on his waist or in some other dignified pose. But now he seems a bit defensive, which is illogical for a man who, according to most eyewitness accounts, is close to indestructible.

Eventually, though, the arms return to his sides. "But then," he continues, "I realized it was for the best. My story had to come out eventually, and if it had to be broken by anyone, you were probably the best choice."

"_Me_?"

Lois is stunned to see admiration _for her_ so blatantly displayed on his face. "Your articles are very good - very fair and objective and honest. I like them."

"T-Thank you," she stammers breathlessly. Her mind is filled with the sound of her inner voice, which repeats, "_He actually reads my work" _over and over again. God, could it really be true? Does this extraordinary man… really spend his free time reading Lois's articles? It seems unbelievable.

"You're welcome," he replies. "And I'm not just talking about the ones about me. There was that one about your time Qurac that was… incredible, perhaps one of the best things I've ever read. It became one of things that inspired me to action."

"Heh," Lois snorts, her hands returning to her hips. "You're just saying that because I got shot - just like the Pulitzer Committee. It really wasn't that good."

His expression darkens with the mention of Lois's… misfortune. In fact, his tone becomes so serious that Lois finds it a bit chilling. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ms. Lane. Your article helped open many people's eyes - my eyes - to some very pressing problems in this world. That's no small feat."

She rolls her eyes. "Small, it may not be. But is it insignificant? Probably. No one's done anything about what happened."

The roof gets very quiet for a moment as they both consider her words. There is no sound except the sound of the breeze, which continues to ripple his cape and whip Lois's hair around. But despite the lack of sound, his company is not awkward. She doesn't know why… but it's not.

"I'm sorry," Superman repeats, genuine regret evident in his voice. "But I assure you… there are people who care about what you said, and want to see change."

Lois bites her lip. "And you're one of them?"

He pauses. "Yes… I believe that I am. And that's why I'm here. There's something I need your help with-"

"My help?" Lois parrots incredulously. "You seem like the kind of guy who can do… well… pretty much anything. Why would you need help from anyone, let alone me?"

"Well, I'm sure you know about my… more recent activities. I've extended my help to stopping major crimes."

Lois recalls the reports of bank robbers bound with bent steel bars. Or a getaway car being flown and gently deposited in front of the Metropolis Police Precinct, with two murderers inside. Yes, he certainly has been busy.

"Something is still bothering me, though. The Lexcorp disaster - I need to know who caused it, and for some reason, the case has been dropped by the MPD. I did hear, on the other hand, that you saw a potential suspect and gave your description to Captain Sawyer. Is that correct?" he asks, his face expectant. Lois nods in response.

"I was wondering if you could tell me what you told her, if not more," he finishes, his eyes pleading. And they're unbelievably convincing; the best of the puppy-dog eyes. It takes every ounce of her being to prevent every relevant piece of information from pouring out of her mouth. But she manages to hold on.

"Let me get this straight. You're asking me to help you interfere in a police investigation? That's vigilantism, you know."

"Actually, according to the law statutes, Citizens' Arrests are legal in this part of the state. It's a little known fact. Besides, I try my best to avoid hurting people. I simply turn them in to the authorities," Superman explains. "But no one knows who blew up the shipping lanes, and the description you gave to the MPD is gone or purposely dropped. With your help, I'll be able to get to the bottom of this issue, even when other people can't or won't."

Lois chuckles, speechless at his idealism. He's too good to be true.

"Alright, Superman. I'll give you the information… in exchange for an interview. And not a teeny one, either. A real, downright honest interview."

"Don't you understand what I'm trying to-?"

"I understand what you're _saying_ you're doing," she interrupts. "But I know almost nothing about you. How can I trust you unless I learn more about who you really are?"

He raises an eyebrow. "But you'll print everything I say?"

"Well… yeah. I am who I am."

Shaking his head, he replies: "You might not like the answers I give you, Miss Lane. And I don't want to be demonized."

"As you said yourself, my articles are 'fair, objective, and honest'. The same qualities will extend to whatever I print about you."

He looks unconvinced, and they proceed to stare each other down for a few moments, examining the options and the odds. Him, wondering whether she is telling the truth, and her, wondering if he will agree.

"Fine," he replies finally, extending his hand for her to shake. "Deal."

She takes his hand and shakes it. "Fine. Interview first, then. "

Eyes widening, he declares: "We never agreed to that. I thought-"

"That you'd what?" Lois questions, arms crossing in irritation and eyes narrowing. "That'd you get your information and take off before completing our deal?"

His head shakes fiercely. "Of course not."

"Then what's the big deal?"

There is an exhale of breath from this presumed 'Man of Steel,' and Lois begins to wonder if she has really done the right thing, demanding information from him. He is trying to help people, after all. But then again… what she said is true. She doesn't know if she can trust him… and she wants to.

One of his hands pushes his hair back, and his eyes begin to look somewhat… sad. But why?

"Like I said," Superman continues in a tone that borders on bitterness, turning away from her to look at the surrounding lights of the city, which continue to glimmer around them, "You're not going to like my answers."

Lois moves beside him, so that she too is staring out at the skyline. For some reason, she has an urge - a stupid, stupid urge - to put her hand on his shoulder. To comfort him, despite whatever circumstance that is distressing him. Thankfully, she is able to resist that embarrassing impulse.

There is a beat before she insists: "Well, let's find out, shall we?"

Lois fishes her phone out of her pocket. Luckily, she downloaded an app that allows her to record interviews, which will surely come in handy now, considering she is lacking a notepad and pen.

His head turns back to her, those blue eyes entirely focused on hers once more. It's no wonder that her hand shakes when presses the record button.

"First thing's first," she begins. "Chocolate or vanilla?"

To her utmost surprise, he bursts out laughing - fully and heartily, with closed eyes and prominent dimples. His laugh is a wonderful sound, she notices, with an almost contagious quality that nearly causes Lois to crack up as well.

"Hey, answer carefully now," she manages through a wide smile. "I may not like what option you choose."

As he settles down, his eyes meet hers again, and they are glittering with amusement. "That's the most important thing you could think to ask me?"

"Right now it is. And you still haven't answered, by the way."

"Fine. Both. Does that satisfy you Ms. Lane?" he responds with a smile.

Lois, who is a firm supporter of the chocolate camp, shakes her head and mumbles: "Almost the wrong answer. If you chose _just_ vanilla I'd have to reprimand you."

She listens to him laugh again, and Lois realizes that he heard every word.

Now that there is greater rapport between them, she decides that it is time to address the real issues. There is a part of her - one that she hopes that she can ignore - that fears learning the truth about him almost as much as he apparently fears speaking of it. But she _needs _to know. And so does the world.

"So… how exactly can you do… all the things that you do?" Lois asks inarticulately, trying to find words to describe all his abilities. "No one's seen anyone like you before. Why? And how did you become this way?"

Another gust of air escapes Superman's mouth, but he nods, ready to answer. "I'm not-" he falters, and stops talking for a moment. But then he resumes. "I'm not human. So let's just get that out in the open. I'm not human and never have been. From what I understand, I'm from another planet. I landed here when I was child, sent from a place that I know very little about."

Lois's phone almost slips out of her hand, but she manages to regain her grip in time. _From another planet? As in… an alien? _Never has Lois considered this option, this explanation for his abilities. How many times has she described him as otherworldly, ignorant to the fact that he is truly not from this world?

She notices that he is watching her carefully, gauging her reaction - searching for fear from her.

And should she be afraid? A part of Lois says yes, simply due to the common stigma that aliens tend to invade and destroy.

But there is another part, a part that looks into those blue eyes and remembers his good deeds - saving her, saving the hostages, locking up those criminals - that simply cannot accept that he is automatically bad. He can't be. He has done nothing but prove that he is hero… a hero with humanity and humility, despite what he claims are extraterrestrial roots.

"Okay, fine," Lois says, deciding to accept and move on. "What planet?"

His eyes widen and lips part, surprised at her good reception of his news. "You're… you're not afraid? Not ready to call the government or anything?"

"Not unless you give me a reason to be," Lois replies calmly. "You didn't answer my other question, though. What planet are you from? And how can you be sure?"

He explains that there were items that came with him - digital information and materials that indubitably suggest his origins. "Besides," he finishes, "Most humans, no matter how much they try to alter themselves, can't do the things I can. At this point, there is little doubt in mind that I am not from Earth."

"The planet, though. What is it?"

"Krypton. It's called Krypton."

They stand in silence again, the name hanging on the breeze like a mist. Even the city sounds seem to die down. Because right now, Lois may be the first human being to realize that there is alien life out there - entire civilizations, even. The gravity of this moment does not escape her.

"Wait," Lois pauses. "You said you landed as a child? Does that mean -?"

"That I was raised here?" Superman concludes for her. "Yes. Two very kind people took me in as their own. I can hardly consider myself anything other than American and human, thanks to them."

"But your physiology and origins suggest otherwise, I assume?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

So Lois isn't the first to know, but certainly one of few. Her mind can barely wrap around the impossibility of the information and the situation she is facing. But the interview must continue. After all, she's a reporter, and her job is to get the story as fast as possible. She'll determine the validity of his words later on.

"Alright… so… you're from an alien planet, and because of that you can do extraordinary things. I'll buy that. But… do you have a real name? I mean, I dubbed you Superman or whatever, but that clearly can't be how you identify yourself. Those parents who adopted you - what did they call you?"

Superman purses his lips. "I… I don't have a human name. Not one that anyone needs to know, anyhow. But I do have a given name, from my planet. It's Kal. Kal-El."

"And why are you here, Kal-El of Krypton?" Lois inquires, her interest piquing. "I can't imagine that it's just to be a good samaritan."

He chuckles a bit at the last part. "I know it seems hard to believe but… I really do just want to help. I've sat idle - hiding - a long time, despite my abilities. Eventually, I figured that it was my duty to do _something_ with them… something beneficial. The last thing I want is for people to be afraid of me. I swear that I'm _not_ here to hurt anyone. If anything, I just want to set a positive example."

His eyes are blazing, impassioned by his own words. And Lois feels a bit inspired listening to them as well.

She stops recording and puts the cell phone back into her pocket. "I think… I think that's all for now. Thank you."

He nods. "You're welcome. I just want people to know that I have nothing to hide… even my origins."

"You don't mind if I still call you Superman, do you? It's kind of grown on me."

"You and the rest of the city, apparently."

"You didn't answer my question. _Again_."

"_Fine,_" he huffs. "You can call me whatever name you see fit, Lois Lane. In the meantime, you promised _me_ some information."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**This is one of my favorite chapters. Sorry for the silliness in that one question, but Lois is pretty good at telling jokes, and I thought that it'd fit her character for her to recognize his discomfort and try to get him over it. **

**I'm actually planning a sequel that will allow Superman to explore his Kryptonian origins. You won't get a lot of that in this story. This story is more centered around a mystery in Metropolis (and the romance, of course)**

**(She will bond with Clark too, fyi). **

**Chapters will also get longer over time. PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY!**


	11. Chapter Ten - Ally

_CHAPTER TEN: ALLY_

Lois Lane is used to breaking news to the world. She is used to reporting unimaginable horrors, political scandals, intriguing new discoveries, and so on. In fact, it is usually her keyboard that determines the public's topic of conversation for the day.

Indeed, when it comes to life-changing information, Lois is usually its distributer to the globe. But it's not a one way street; for her, there has always been a sort of satisfaction in eliciting outrage, surprise, or even fear from her readers.

But nothing - _nothing _\- she has ever written has prompted greater reactions than those from this article.

Superman's story hit the stands two mornings ago, and since then, Lois's life has been a whirlwind of insanity. It's not every day that a reporter gets to confirm the existence of alleged alien life. And it's not every day that the public gets to read about such things in their morning papers.

The phone in her office rings off the hook. She has been visited by four government agents, all of which she managed to scare off by threatening to contact her own father - a five star general well on his way to becoming the Secretary of Defense. Then there are the scientists, the UFO fanatics, and the relentless president of the "Superman fan club," who manages to sneak up on her no matter where she goes. Thus, despite the incredible information that she has already reported on, people are still demanding _more_ from her.

It's not as if publishing the information she had was easy, either. Initially, Perry refused to print her piece of what he called "conspiracy-theory garbage."

"Look, Lane," he had said. "This is Inquisitor-level stuff. How the hell do we know if he's telling the truth?"

She had actually laughed out loud in response. "Chief, the man can fly and deflect bullets with his bare skin. Is it really so _unbelievable_ that he's from another planet?"

"Maybe _you_ think so. But other people won't - not without expert confirmation, at least."

Lois wasn't exactly opposed to getting a real scientist's opinion, either. And luckily, she had one that she trusted on speed dial.

A short trip to Star Labs brought her to Dr. Emil Hamilton, a Nobel Prize winner for his work in about a hundred different biological and mechanical fields. Hamilton is Lois's go-to scientific expert, and luckily for her, he's always all too willing to help.

A few years ago, Emil had been the whistleblower for a huge toxic waste scandal involving Dayton Industries, at which he was a major weapons designer. At the time, Lois Lane had been the only journalist brave enough to report on the issue, thus risking the wrath of the company's founder, Steven Dayton, as a result. After all, being on the bad-side of the fifth wealthiest man in the world was undesirable to say the least.

But Lois had never been afraid of such things. As a reporter, she had always promised to tell the truth, no matter the consequences. And that's what she did for Emil. Ever since, he has been one of her best connections, especially considering his current position of prestige at Star Labs, which is a leader in non-weapon, technological innovations. Not to mention his full past of government-sanctioned astronomical, medical, and mechanical research.

She remembers handing her draft of the article to Emil… watching the genius's brown eyes slide from line to line, widening with every passing second. Finally, he finished reading with a shaky sort of exhale, as if he had stopped breathing for a few seconds. In fact, Lois suspected that he actually had.

Composing himself, Emil adjusted his thick glasses and cleared his throat. "Do you understand the… the… _significance_ of this, Lois?"

"Yeah, yeah. Scientific finding of the century or something. I get it," she replied flippantly, (though she was in just as much awe as he was. She was still a little stupefied from her encounter with the so-called Man of Steel the previous night)

Emil sank into a nearby chair, his eyes still glued to the article like the paper had transformed into solid gold. "Incredible… of course I had theorized… but never truly considered… oh my… alien life… _intelligent_ alien life."

Lois moved in front of him and placed her hands on her hips. "Listen, professor. This article needs the scientist's stamp of approval, or it'll never reach the stands. Is Superman telling the truth… or not? Is he really an alien?"

Hamilton sat for a long time, pensively staring at the article in utter silence. Finally, his response came.

"Honestly? I don't see how he could be anything else. A physiology other than human… adaptations to environments much harsher than anything on this planet… these might be the only explanations for abilities such as his. So yes. I concur with his claims."

Lois wrote that quotation down, and added it to the second paragraph of her article-an article titled "_Who is Superman?_," with the subtitle "_The Truth Behind the Man of Steel," _and the ever-glorious byline of "_by Lois Lane."_

Once online, the story received so many hits that the Daily Planet website crashed, and Perry nearly exploded with rage as the IT department struggled to get it back up. The newspapers, which hardly ever sold in today's day and age, were bought faster than they could be printed. As far as anyone could tell, no article had ever been so universally read. (Or should they say globally read, since the universe just became a whole lot bigger?)

Every day since, the article has been reprinted on the third page of the newspaper, and has remained on the homepage of the website. Just in case.

"Holy crap," Jimmy now exclaims as he walks into Lois's office, carrying an armload of mail (yes, real, _paper_ mail) from readers commenting on her article. "No one has ever won more than four Pulitzers, you know. But you, Lois? Hell, with this story, you'll probably earn a fourth before you turn thirty."

Lois finishes framing the first copy of the article, which Perry gave to her straight off the printing press. It is a huge story, after all. As aforementioned, it's not every day that someone proves the existence of alleged alien life, and Lois plans to remember this achievement for years to come.

"What can I say?" she responds as she lifts the mahogany frame and hangs it on her wall. It balances on a metal nail, which she kindly hammered into place during the early morning hours, effectively waking her coworkers out of their usual lethargy in the process. "Four time Pulitzer winner Robert Frost is no match for the story-seeking power of Lois Lane." Taking a step back, she examines how the article looks on the dark walls of her office, placed next to the first copies of her two other award-winning articles. She decides this one is the best looking, even before it wins anything. Her story on Qurac had no picture to accompany her words, and the toxic waste expose had a cartoon instead of a real photo. This new article, however, boasted one of Jimmy's best images - one from the museum rescue. It isn't one including the little boy, but one snapped as Superman launched into flight. Yes, Superman's visage and costume are splayed all across the page, in bright color and high definition. It's a great picture. A _gorgeous_ picture.

_Get a grip, Lois_, she tells herself, tearing her eyes away from the wall and walking back to her desk. She scrunches up her nose in displeasure as she looks at the horde of envelopes covering the tabletop.

"Hey Jimmy," she says sweetly, looking up at him pleadingly. "Mind looking these over for me?"

A disgusted expression twists his freckled features as he picks up a food-stained envelope. "_Do I mind_? Obviously. There are like… a million of these things."

"Rephrase: Jimmy, look these over for me."

"No way, Lois, I'm busy! I've gotta help Clark follow up on his article-" Jimmy protests, already trying to escape into the hallway. Before he can get far enough, however, Lois grabs him by his bowtie and pulls him back.

"_Clark's_ article? He wrote… an article?" Lois demands, still gripping the tie.

"Well he _is_ a reporter, Lois. And the Daily Planet prints more than one article per week, you know," he chokes out. "Can you lemme go now?"

Lois releases him, and he coughs a bit. "Sorry, Jimmy. But when did it come out? What was it on? Oh, he _better not_ be trying to one-up me again…"

Before he can answer, she unceremoniously pushes all the envelopes off the desk and onto the floor. Trapped under them is today's newspaper, still face-down and unopened. She never got the chance to read it with all the hooplah regarding her own article.

Lois flips it over almost savagely, selfishly hoping that Clark's article didn't make the front page.

She is not disappointed.

Oh, his article is on the front page, but still she is not disappointed. She is even ecstatic.

It reads as follows:

* * *

**LEXCORP BOMBERS TURNED IN; CLAIM TO BE HIRED BY LEXCORP CEO TO COVER UP ILLEGAL WEAPONS SALES**

**by Clark Kent, Staff Reporter**

_Several days after the catastrophic bombing of Lexcorp's Shipping Lanes in New Troy, the perpetrators of the disaster have finally been caught. All seven bombers were turned in to the Metropolis Special Crimes Unit late last night, where, in an unexpected turn of events, they promptly agreed to a confession. _

_In his confession, former explosives-specialist and alleged mastermind Tobias Blotner, 35, not only admitted to his own guilt, but also claimed to have been privately hired by Lexcorp CEO, Alexander "Lex" Luthor. Apparently, Luthor contracted Blotner and several accomplices to steal the weapons so that under-the-table weapons sales could be facilitated without direct corporate involvement. Some potential buyers of these weapons, according to Blotner, were under known U.N. sanctions, such as those currently affecting the nation of Bialya, which has tried on numerous occasions to force its neighbor country, Qurac, into annexation. _

_Most of the weapons stolen during the explosion are still missing, though a small portion was recovered last night. According to many reports, Superman was responsible for interrupting one of Blotner's weapons sales, where he apparently persuaded Blotner and his accomplices to return the contraband and confess to their crimes. _

_If this is the case, it should be noted that each member of Blotner's group was arrested unharmed, though a bit shaken. _

_Both Lexcorp and Lex Luthor refused to comment on Blotner's claims. Captain Maggie Sawyer of the MPD, on the other hand, informed the Daily Planet that Blotner's case is compelling, and that an investigation into Lexcorp and Alexander Luthor will begin immediately. _

_The MPD was previously criticized for dropping its investigation into the bombing on account of no witnesses, as attested by the city's police commissioner. It has now come to light that the commissioner's department had somehow misplaced an artist's rendition of Blotner, which was created right after the event using a witness's description. _

_Blotner also claimed that Luthor bribed the commissioner to cease the police's investigation into the bombing. Additionally, Blotner revealed that the destruction of the shipping lanes caused insurance reimbursements that certainly profited for Lexcorp. _

_Until solid evidence proving Luthor and the the commissioner's direct involvement is uncovered, it is unlikely that either man will be indicted. Nonetheless, if Blotner's claims prove true, treason, fraud, bribery, smuggling, terrorism, mayhem, and hundreds of other charges may be in Lex Luthor's future. _

* * *

Lois is speechless as she finishes reading the article. Her heart just may burst. A bubbling, though incomplete, feeling of satisfaction has appeared in her stomach.

This article has not proven everything. Hell, it's hardly proven anything at all, but if people are reading the Daily Planet as much as their current website hits and newspaper sales suggest, then it's possible that people will learn that Lex is really nothing but a crook.

She only wishes that she was the one who wrote it.

Hell, she can't even believe that _Clark Kent_ wrote this. Nervous, diplomatic Clark Kent, firing accusations at Lex Luthor - the most powerful man in Metropolis? The guy must have a death wish. Sure, Lois can protect herself when she writes things like this- her father is a general and Lex still probably feels like he owns her somehow. Not to mention that she is probably the most famous reporter in the world right now, so killing her would create not just waves, but tsunamis.

But Clark is a _literal_ farmboy. He has small-town parents who buy him cute mugs and probably knows more than anyone needs to about corn. How could he _possibly_ expect to get away with ruining Lex's reputation like this without retribution?

Only Perry and Lois have ever really taken on corporate moguls before (and lived). Perry has enemies up to his ears and is barely protected by his status as editor of the Daily Planet, and Lois has almost died way too many times. She knows all too well what happens to most whistleblowing reporters who cross rich, powerful, and morally corrupt men. Does Clark really know what he has gotten himself into? Is he that naive?

No, she doesn't think so. He's quirky and mild-mannered but not ignorant. If anything, his words even sounded like a challenge to Lex. Yes… Lois thinks he knows exactly what he's doing.

_Damn. Gutsy move, Kent, _she thinks. _Stupid… but gutsy._

She puts the paper down and turns to Jimmy, her expression so happy that it borders on manic. "How did I not hear about this?"

Jimmy shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. "Well, you _did_ just reveal the existence of alien life. That ranks just a bit higher than corporate corruption when it comes to conversation topics, don't you think?"

Alright, that actually did make sense. But Lois is still reeling. How could Clark have even found the information to write this article? There had to be more than one source involved - Maggie Sawyer was probably one of them. But how could he have known about Superman's involvement in the matter? Maybe he spoke to Superman as well?

Whatever the case, one thing was clear:

She has newfound respect for Clark Kent, who seemed to be the only other person able to fully see through Lex's facade.

* * *

It's two o'clock in the morning when Lois hears a knock on a door. The sound is muffled, though, so it's not on _her_ door. As Lois expected, it's on Clark's door. It was only a matter of time. In fact, it's why she stayed awake all night.

Well, one of the reasons. The last thing she wants to deal with right now is another bout of nightmares.

She hops out of bed, still dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, and goes to her own door. Before she actually exits her apartment, she presses her ear to the wood to listen - just to verify that her suspicions are correct.

Muffled voices are conversing in the hallway. Lois practically holds her breath so that she can hear them correctly.

"-want every bone in your body 'broke, I'd say you stop reportin' on the story," one voice threatens, the tone incredibly deep and ominous.

Clark must be terrified, she realizes. This sort of thing - extortion - probably doesn't happen in Kansas. At least not as far as she knows. Who is she kidding? Extortion is terrifying for anyone.

Anger courses through her veins. Sending this thug, whoever he is, is an incredibly cowardly and low thing for Lex to do. If she didn't want to punch that bald asshole before, she certainly does now.

Suddenly, Clark responds in the calmest, steeliest voice she has even heard him use. It's almost disconcerting, to hear the stammering, nervous man she has come to know sound so… well… tough.

"Luthor sent you, right? Tell him to threaten someone else; it's not going to work, and frankly, I don't have the time or patience for this."

She hears the other man laugh mirthlessly, like he had hoped for such a response. "Izzat righ'? Well… how 'bout a demonstration, Mr. Kent?"

At the sound of cracking knuckles, Lois throws open her door and immediately turns to look at the entrance of Clark's apartment. In front of it she sees a very burly, tattooed, pale man sporting nothing but a wife-beater and ragged jeans.

No, this is certainly not the sort of man that a rich guy like Lex would be expected to hire. But this sort of employee is the smart choice, Lois realizes. After all, it'd be too easy to make this incident look like a robbery gone wrong, with the hopeful result of Clark being too scared to make any more accusations about Lex.

The man is still cracking his knuckles, looking up at Clark with a twisted smile. Clark, meanwhile, wears an expression as steely as his voice as he stares down at the man, his arms crossed and his back straight. This is the first time she has seen him without a hat, so she _should_ finally be able to get a good look at him.

But such is not the case. Even as he stands partly inside his apartment, half-bathed in its darkness and half-bathed in light from the hallway, she can barely make out his glasses and the dark look on his face.

Lois backtracks for a moment. Wait… the man is looking up… Clark is staring down. Since when did Clark get so tall? Before, he always seemed rather average-sized for a man. Maybe barely six feet. Now, he seems _extremely_ tall.

Maybe he slouches… ?

She stares again, measuring up the inches between Clark's head and the thug's. Jesus… Clark seems to be _way_ taller, even though the extortionist is definitely several inches over six feet. How has Lois failed to notice his height before? How much does he slouch… _exactly_?

And why is she getting so distracted by this?

The man seems to be about to lunge at Clark, who remains unflinching, when Lois demands rather loudly: "What the hell is going on here?"

Both men's heads snap toward her, their jaws slack with surprise for a moment.

Silence succeeds her words. Eventually, Clark composes himself and responds.

"Lois," he says, that diplomatic tone returning and his features visibly softening, "Go back to your apartment. This isn't something you need to worry about."

She rolls her eyes, closes her own apartment door, and begins to walk toward them with crossed arms. "Please don't treat me like I'm an idiot. I'm _also_ a reporter, Kent. I know extortion when I see it - _from first hand experience_, by the way_._"

Then, after pointing to the thug, she adds: "Plus, this guy could not be _more_ obvious. I feel like I'm watching a soap opera rather than an actual attempt at threatening someone."

"Listen, sweetheart," the thug says in that deep voice of his, his hands temporarily falling to his sides. "If you know what's good for you, you'd-"

"Stay out of it, go to bed, yadayadayada, thanks but no thanks," Lois finishes for him. "Now, if you knew what's good for you, _you_ would go home and leave Mr. Kent alone."

The man laughs gruffly and Clark looks visibly stunned.

"Do you want me to list the reasons? Because I can," she tells them, outstretching her fist and raising her index finger. "One: You have a witness now. I heard you threatening him for Luthor."

"I didn't say nuthin'. 'An I could always-" the thug starts, the twisted smile growing larger.

"Two," Lois continues, raising another finger accordingly with each new number."You can't kill me because I'm Lois Lane, currently the most famous reporter in the world. I wrote the 'Who is Superman?' article. You're all welcome for that, by the way.

"Three: my father, Samuel Lane, is a five-star General in the U.S. Army, and if anything happens to me or my friend Clark, he will know, and you can bet your ass that your boss's military contract will be _revoked_.

"Four: I'm also Lex Luthor's girlfriend," she lies. "He sends me flowers. I can show you my pictures in the tabloids. But hey, if you want to get Luthor indicted, get yourself indicted, ruin your boss's military contract, and kill the woman he loves, then be my guest. It's up to you, amigo."

The man is speechless as he proceeds to glance between an equally stunned Clark and an impatiently waiting Lois. For a good five minutes, he seems utterly unable to decide what to do, torn between carrying out his job and making the smart choice. Growing tired of his indecision, Lois adds:

"Plus, I probably woke up most of the floor. I'm not a very quiet person, you know. And it's a safe bet that one of them already called the police, so I'd scram if I were you."

With that, the man can't afford to stay any longer. He throws one last hate-filled glance at Clark before sprinting toward the stairway. He is soon completely gone, save for the sound of footsteps practically jumping down those steps.

"I guess I should… thank you?" Clark supposes in confusion as he rubs the back of his own neck. "I'm really not quite sure how you did that, or why, but thanks. Though I'd be happier if you didn't feel the need to threaten criminals…"

"He _started_ the whole threatening thing. I was only returning the favor. Besides, you looked scared out of your wits, Smallville," Lois retorts, even though she knows the latter part isn't true. He looked anything but scared. "I had to help my friend before he peed his farmboy pants."

"I can protect myself, Lois. And since when do you consider me a-"

"Friend?" she finishes for him. "Since today. We need to talk."

She proceeds to practically drag him into his own pitch black apartment, even despite his protests of, "_Lois, what are you doing?_"

The light switch to his apartment is in the same place as hers, so she is able to grope in the dark for it. Soon, his living room is flooded with light.

Whereas Lois's apartment is all modern furniture, sleek technology, and abstract art, Clark's is almost the exact opposite. It's almost… warm and cozy. The maroon couch looks worn but comfortable, and he has plaid tablecloths and books on all the flat surfaces except for the floors, which are instead covered with carpets.

Oddly enough, his window has seemingly out-of-place, opaque curtains that seem quite weather-worn, like the window is always left open while the curtains are closed.

She notices that one of his walls is covered in a variety of filled photo frames. As she begins examining them, she _almost_ fails to notice Clark snatching a baseball cap from a coat rack near the door and shoving it over his head.

She still notices it, though. She simply ignores it until she knows what it means.

Many of the pictures feature an older couple, usually with a farm in the background. In some of them, she can spot a much-younger, middle-school or even lesser-aged Clark. Whenever young Clark was not taking pictures with the couple, he seemed to be with a skinny blond boy and a red-haired girl. In fact, the red-haired girl seemed to be quite important to him, seeing as she sometimes appeared solo in his picture frames. This girl, as far as Lois could tell, was extremely pretty, with the type of adorable spray of freckles that Lois has always envied.

The only image that seemed to feature an older Clark was one from what must have been his high school years. Given his cap and gown, it was clearly his graduation photo, though the red-haired girl was in it as well. They were kissing - romance movie style, or like in that picture of the couple on V-E day. He was cupping the back of her neck, leaning over her as she laid back in his arms, both smiling into each other's mouths.

As she looks at the photo, Lois realizes that Clark and this girl must have made _quite_ the couple. Even from a distorted side-view such as this, she can see that Clark was quite the looker in high school - well-built… with smooth, dark hair. In fact, there is something vaguely familiar about the way he looks in the photo, something that has gone unnoticed in real life, given the way he hides his face…

Clark steps in front of the pictures, effectively cutting off her view. Nonetheless, she notices he is slouching again. After all, he is still in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. It's a lot harder to hide that sort of stance when you're not wearing an ill-fitting suit.

And man, that suit _had to be_ ill-fitting. As far as she could tell, Clark was not chunky at all, like the suit made him look. He was _ripped_. Crazy ripped, even, with a freaking six-pack visible through his Metropolis University t-shirt.

"Lois, _what_ are you doing?" he repeats, his arms crossed in irritation.

Muscled arms. _Super-muscled_ arms.

_Stop it!_ Lois commands herself, shaking those extremely odd thoughts out her head before pointing to the photos.

"Nice pictures. Lots of plaid. Anyway, who's the girl? Your girlfriend?"

He is silent for a while. In fact, Lois is starting to believe he won't answer when he finally speaks up.

"She's my ex-girlfriend. High school sweetheart."

"Jeez," Lois says, "I don't remember what my high school boyfriends _looked like_, let alone kept photos of them."

"Lana and I are childhood friends," he informs her, his voice a bit defensive. "We ended it on good terms."

He _is _a small-town boy, so the 'friends' part doesn't surprise her. But Lois has never ended a relationship on good terms, so she becomes a bit too curious for her own good.

"Who broke up with whom?" Lois blurts tactlessly, but she simply can't help it.

"Lois-"

"You don't have to answer that," she retracts, turning away from the photos. "Sorry, stupid question. Most of my breakups have ended in burning hatred, so… "

"No, it's fine," he sighs, his arms uncrossing. "It sort of just… fell apart when I came to Metropolis. I had my future. She had hers. Nothing was going the how we expected it to. It was better to go our separate ways.

"Now why are you here, Lois?"

She exhales.

Like she had done for Lex on the day she had first met Clark, Lois pulls the collar of her t-shirt to the side, revealing the bullet wound near her shoulder. For a moment, she thinks he winces a bit at the sight, as if he is feeling her past pain viscerally.

"There are things that I didn't put in my article about Qurac. Things that I know but had no proof on," she explains. "I know that Lex sold the bullets to the Bialyian nationalists. He supplied the men who shot up that village… who shot me up."

Clark seems unsurprised, but grieved nonetheless. Lois realizes she has never seen anyone seem so sincerely upset by someone else's pain. It's relieving, somehow. It's even more relieving that he trusts her enough to believe her unquestioningly.

"I'm sorry he betrayed you… betrayed everyone like that," he tells her.

"Look," Lois continues. "The reason why I called myself 'Lex's girlfriend' to protect you (thus destroying part of my soul in the process) is this: I'm glad you're looking into Lex. I'm glad that you're showing the world how he really is."

"I sense a 'but' coming."

"_But_ I want to help you. I want to be your ally in this. I want to take Lex down, whatever it takes. Get him brought to justice."

Clark seems dumbstruck. "You… want to _share_ a byline… with me?"

"You're a good reporter, Clark," she admits. "I was wrong. And Lex is too powerful. I don't think I can necessarily do this alone."

Lois extends her hand for him to shake. "So let's start over and be friends. Allies. Partners. For real this time."

Clark smiles and looks at her directly for what may be the first time ever. His hand is warm as it grasps hers, but strong. Firm.

"Well," he begins jokingly, "I suppose I will need your protection. Lex is a dangerous man, after all."

When Lois returns his direct stare and his smile, she can just make out the color of his eyes from behind the thick frames and the light's reflection on his glasses.

They're blue.

_TBC..._

* * *

**A/N:**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**Yay, Lois and Clark are friends now too! (And she's noticing some suspicious things about Clark oooooh)**

**So Saturdays seem to be the days the I will be updating weekly (unless I forget, but if you leave a review or PM me, I'll be reminded and post it ASAP).**

**God, I'm crazy busy right now, so the sequel may have to be put on hold for a little while. But this story will be updated regularly, don't you worry.**

**Also my current emotional state is crying about how Lois and Clark aren't canon in the comics bc they should be and Superman/Wonder Woman is my notp... sorry not sorry. **

**HOWEVER - in the man of steel universe they are living together so HUZZAH! (and there's confirmed lack of Superman/Wonder Woman)**

**Anyway, I'm done rambling. See you soon! Review, please! **


	12. Chapter Eleven - Reunion

_CHAPTER ELEVEN - REUNION_

"And who is this?" Clark asks, pointing to a photo of a man with dark hair and features. The image was obviously taken from some sort of police database, seeing as it appeared to be a mug shot.

"Morris Colon," Lois replies as she sits behind her desk, not even bothering to look up as she prints images from her laptop. "He's a skittish member of the Bay Demons, the biggest gang in-"

"Hob's Bay," Clark recites as he begins to rub his chin. "Got it…Do you think he'll reveal gang's weapon suppliers to us?"

The picture of Morris is one of many, varied photos taped on the window of Lois's office, each one featuring known criminals of all sorts, specific places, and potential Lexcorp informants. These images are connected with pieces of string and bedecked with explanatory sticky notes, thus forming a sort of color web - or a mind-map, as Lois likes to call it. With this setup, she can easily make connections, plan interviews, and find leads.

At the center of it all is a picture of one Lex Luthor. Lois took great pains to find the most ridiculous picture of Lex on the internet, one with him mid-motion and his mouth slightly askew. She figures it lightens the whole project up.

The only way to figure out if Lex is doing something illegal - or proveably illegal - is to determine who he might be selling weapons to. And the only way to accomplish _that_ is to force his clients to reveal the logistics of the weapons deals, thus allowing Lois and Clark to catch a Lexcorp crony in the act. So right now, they need to figure out their targets for questioning within the gangs, starting with Colon.

"Hence 'skittish,' Smallville. He's damn terrified of getting arrested again. Trust me: this is the type of guy who'd rather risk _being_ the rat than risk _someone else_ ratting him out."

"So basically, if we convince him that the gang's downfall is imminent, he'll sing," Clark muses as he continues to stand and stare at the mind-map. To Lois, it seems like he is talking to himself rather than to her, but she responds anyway.

"Yup. Louder than the fat lady."

It's almost incredible how quickly she and Clark dove into this project. Sure, it took a day or two for Perry to agree, mostly because long-term projects such as these tended to divide a reporter's attention, which could be undesirable. But eventually, after ample consideration, Perry relented, and the so-christened "Project: Indict Lex Luthor" is now underway.

So far, they are in the planning process of the story, which mostly involves organization and research. Of course, neither of those parts are easy, especially since Lex is quite skilled at covering his own ass.

But it wouldn't be "investigative journalism" without the "investigation" part, Lois supposes.

Surprisingly, Lois and Clark are making an oddly efficient team. Lois knows the heart and soul of Metropolis, the dark corners and skeletons that she can exploit. Her knowledge from her time on the crime beat is inexhaustible and invaluable, as are her wide connections to various sources throughout the city - especially within Lexcorp.

Clark, meanwhile, always seems to hear the current events that she doesn't - changes in command and meeting spots for the gangs, interceptions of weapons by the cops, attacks on people and places… even the comings-and-goings of Superman.

Yes, somehow Clark is always the first-to-know when it comes to Superman's interference with Metropolis's gang violence. How he gets the information, she isn't sure she wants to know, but it is definitely useful.

"Lots of gangs are running scared. They're afraid of being turned in by Superman," Clark says suddenly, his eyes still glued to the pictures, as if memorizing them.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Lois asks, moving from her spot behind her desk to the nearby printer, where her newest pictures are waiting.

He purses his lips. "… I don't know… maybe? Fear just seems like the last thing… Superman… would want to inspire. And it's not just the gangs. It's everyone. Everyone's afraid."

It's an odd thing for Clark to say, Lois notes. Why would he care so much about the intentions behind Superman's actions? After all, Clark's stories on Superman are always written so… clinically. She understands that speculation is usually best left out of articles, but she knows he _could_ and _should_ include a few theories about the Man of Steel's long term goals for Metropolis. But no… it's always 'Superman did this,' 'Superman did that," no thanks, no explanation, no nothing.

And well… if Superman is really so against inspiring fear… then she thinks he is being unrealistic. After all, Lois told the _whole world _of his alien origins. Could he really expect people to remains unafraid? Lois can count only a few films that portrayed E.T.s positively (one of them being Spielberg's _the Extraterrestrial_, of course_). _It doesn't surprise her that people might act aversely toward him at first.

In fact, she reported on one of Superman's spats with the "normal folk" only yesterday. A subway had nearly crashed due to its conductor having a stroke; luckily, Superman managed to stop the train without causing any injuries or further damage. But… when Superman asked the passengers for medical aid for the conductor, no one stepped forward, even though there were at least _three doctors _on board. The whole situation was ridiculous to say the least, and despicable to say the most. Had it not been for Superman's speedy delivery of the conductor to a hospital, the man would have died due to the passengers' irrational fears of alien contact.

But there are _also _stories with opposite behaviors. She has seen surveillance videos of Superman saving people from robbers or other dangerous men and women, deflecting bullets from the innocent with his bare skin. She has witnessed the rescued hugging and blessing him with gratitude. And that, she hopes, will eventually become the norm, with fear as a phase.

"I wouldn't worry about it," she eventually advises Clark as she tapes her new photos to the mind map and connects them with strings. "Scared of Superman as they may be, the justice system is still in the gangs' back pockets. Even if he turned them in, they'd be back on the streets in hours."

"Wow. You really promote a sense of security, Lois," Clark grumbles sarcastically, thus causing Lois to smirk a little.

Truth be told, she likes provoking a little sarcasm out of him. She senses that the straight-backed, steely Clark Kent she witnessed recently is tucked away - probably hidden under this sniveling, farm-boy mask that she is determined to lift. You can't really blame Lois for liking _that _Clark more than the one he pretends to be.

So far, she has only been able to see short displays of cheek from him, and this is one of rare those instances.

"Is that _sass_, Kent? Well… who knew you had it in you…"

Once again, she feels - rather than sees - him roll those apparently-blue eyes of his. This time, however, she knows he is more amused than irritated. There is a smirk across his lips that quite mirrors her own.

"What can I say?" he shrugs. "I think you're becoming a bad influence on -"

Suddenly, Jimmy bursts into her office. He throws the door closed almost as quickly as he threw it open, proceeding to stand in front of it like a human barricade. When he looks at Lois's stunned face, his expression seems rather horrified.

"Jimmy? What's wrong?" Clark inquires with concern, his amusement gone.

"Lois," Jimmy begins breathlessly, still poised against the door. "I just saw him on the way up… trying to get a visitor's pass. You better get out of here ASAP."

"Who did you see, Jimmy? What is he talking about?" Clark interrogates, this time with even more concern in his voice.

Lois, on the other hand, knows exactly who Jimmy is talking about, and feels dread freeze her insides. There is only one person that Lois would have Jimmy keep an eye out for, every morning, just in case he had the nerve to show up and uproot Lois's whole life. And that person certainly was _not_ Lex Luthor. No, she can definitely handle Lex Luthor. She even _wishes_ she is dealing with Lex Luthor right now.

"_Shit_," Lois exclaims, much to Clark's displeasure. "It's my dad, isn't it?"

Jimmy nods fiercely, informing her that time is short, and that if she wants to escape the Daily Planet before he finds her, she'll have to act fast.

"Alright, you start talking to him - distract him. I'm gonna make a run for it," she announces, proceeding to turn to Clark. "You, stand in front of me while we skedaddle. Hopefully he won't spot me until it's too late."

Clark looks utterly perplexed, his mouth slightly ajar. "I don't understand. _Why_ are you hiding from your father, exactly?"

Lois grabs him by the shoulders and steers him to a spot directly in front of her, blocking her from sight with his bulk. "No time to explain. Let's go!"

With that, Jimmy sprints out the door, heading straight for the elevator. Meanwhile, Lois pushes Clark to the side of the crowded, bustling Daily Planet bullpen, where they can hopefully slip down the staircase unnoticed.

It would have been a perfect plan - if her father hadn't taken the stairs. So when she opened the heavy metal door to the staircase, there he was, waiting for her with a vaguely exasperated expression. Initially, he is a bit startled by Clark, but a quick glance behind him easily alerts him to Lois's wide-eyed presence.

"Nice try, Lo," General Sam Lane tells her severely as he practically pushes Clark out of his way. "But we're going to have a talk. Now."

* * *

Lois sits with her arms crossed, glaring over her desk at the seat that holds her ever-scowling and equally glaring father. Of course, she's not angry at the chair. She's angry that he is occupying it.

Lois definitely does not want him here, which is why she didn't invite him into her office. Especially now that she is investigating Lexcorp with Clark. Despite her wishes, however, he decided to come inside anyway.

She has noticed that he always does that sort of thing - whatever he wants, that is.

So now, after Lois hid her mind-map under the window blinds, the father and daughter sit in the office alone. Silent. Irritated. Two incredibly stubborn wills fighting for dominance.

Sam Lane looks the same as he always has. His hair, which has been light gray for as long as she can remember, is still tucked into that military cap of his, and his medal and epaulette-bedecked suit is just as finely-pressed as it was when Lois entered middle school. Even his wrinkles remained unaltered, giving him the appearance of a roughly-hewn wooden statue.

The last time she saw him was a few weeks after the Qurac attack, and reuniting with him now only makes the bullet-wound in her shoulder throb painfully. Whether the pain is real or psychosomatic, Lois does not have the time or the patience to figure out.

Unable to stand the quietude anymore, Lois queries rather mockingly: "So dad… how long have you been in town?"

"Flew in from DC yesterday afternoon," he replies gruffly, not that he has ever talked any other way.

"Really? Hmm… let me guess… you had dinner with Lex at the Halldorf, right?"

"Lois-"

"Bet you even let him pay, too. Well… now that Lex and I are split, it's nice to know you're trying your luck with him-"

"_LOIS_," her father booms in his most commanding voice, effectively cutting her off. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

She is taken aback for a moment, sitting with raised brows and narrowed eyes. "What am _I d_oing? _My_ _job_. Or at least I'm trying to. You know, I'd be more successful if you didn't just shove your way into my life at random times. I thought we had an agreement-"

"-And I thought _we_ had an agreement, Lois. You just… you just _quit_ your therapy sessions, after all the trouble I went through-"

"-I didn't _need _therapy-"

"Oh really? How much sleep have you been getting? How many cigarettes have you smoked?"

"… That's none of your business…"

"I can see the bags under your eyes, Lo. I can smell the nicotine on your breath. I'm a soldier; I _know_ what survivor's guilt and PTSD are. That kind of death and destruction… you don't just forget it."

With that, images from that day in Qurac begin to replay again in her mind. Before she allows herself to see the man chase after the little girl once more, she manages to escape the memory by focusing intensely on a pencil on her desk.

"I'm fine," she tells him firmly, feeling oddly like her tongue has turned to sand. "Angry, but fine."

"… Then you go cutting your personal ties, hardly speaking with your sister. She's been worried _sick_. And then there's Lex-"

Lois stands up suddenly, nearly knocking over her own chair in the process. "I KNEW IT!" she yells. "This isn't about _me_ breaking up with Lex, not about my health or Lucy's concern for me. This is about _you_ losing your chance at the potential '_family discount_' on Lexcorp weapons!"

"Not true," he denies fervently, shaking his head like he used to when Lois was a child.

"I cannot believe this," she exclaims. "The guy is a monster. You know that, right? He's the reason I got shot!"

Her father is now standing up as well - probably because he cannot stand anyone looking down at him, even his own daughter. His glare is suddenly much more intense - fiery, patronizing, and domineering. It would probably scare anyone who is unaccustomed to seeing it.

But Lois has adapted over the years.

"No, Lois," he practically scolds her. "You were shot by fanatics. Fanatics who stole Lexcorp weaponry. All you're doing is looking for someone to blame; and for some reason, you're assigning that blame to Lex - a man who cares deeply for you."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges. "What about the shipping lane scandal? Is he blameless for that too?"

"It's crap meant to sell papers. There's no proof, just media sensationalization by an uppity reporter-"

Lois can't help but laugh at that - hysterically, even. The words are not really funny, of course, since what he is saying _hurts_ a bit. He never listens to her - never has, never will. It's just ridiculous that she ever trusted him to believe her about Lex.

And she's even more upset by the fact that she actually does _need_ a cigarette and some sleep because _God _her life is topsy-turvy right now and it's _killing _her.

But she also hates that he's right about those things… because…if he is… then is Lex really innocent? Has she been looking for someone to blame for no reason?

No… she _is_ right about Lex. She knows it in her gut and her heart.

Soon, Lois is throwing her hands in the air and declaring, "Well guess what, dad? I'm _also_ an uppity reporter working in the media. And if you can't respect what I do, and what my co-workers do, you can go screw yourself."

"Don't talk to me like that, young-"

"I'm _not_ a soldier you can command, or a little girl anymore. I'm an adult and I can choose what to do with my life, thank you very much. Now go hang with Lex - you two are obviously made for each other."

It's satisfying, the way he sets his jaw with fury clear on his features. He spent her whole life telling her what to do and what not to do, who to date and who not to date, what career to take and what career not to take. Her first rebellious act toward him was probably becoming a reporter, but her attitude toward him right now might even top that mutiny.

Unfortunately, her satisfaction is cut short when he grits out "I'm not finished, Lois."

"_For the love of God,_ what else is there?" she moans, rubbing her temples and eyeing her purse, which currently holds her pack of smokes.

His voice is cold when he answers: "I need to know how to contact Superman."

Lois's eyes snap up to meet his own, utterly surprised by this change of topic. "Superman? _Why_?"

"The United States government has found it… concerning that an alien being has taken up residence in its most populated city. Lex has agreed to help. We're going to take him into custody, but we'd _prefer _to give him a chance to surrender."

"You're _arresting _him?" Lois cries, her satisfaction now replaced by sharp horror. "On what grounds?"

"He's an illegal alien-"

"-you're joking-"

"-and a vigilante-"

"-citizens' arrests are legal here!" she counters quickly.

"Well, he's not a citizen."

"_Oh for Christ's sake_," she shouts. "He hasn't hurt anybody! In fact, he's only _helped_ people. Lex, on the other hand… "

Her father begins to point accusingly at the window, as if Superman is flying just outside for him to admonish. If by chance the Man of Steel is, she half-hopes he is not listening - simply so he does not hear the xenophobic bullshit spewing out of her own father's mouth. On the other hand, he needs to be warned. Her father doesn't make threats; he takes action. And if General Sam Lane considers Superman dangerous, then Superman is in serious trouble.

"He has unlimited physical power, Lois. In fact, have you ever considered why he's here? If he goes unchecked, Lex thinks could destroy everything and everyone. Conquer the entire-"

"He would _never _do that," Lois snarls. "And destruction is Lex's department, not Superman's. All you want to do is turn him into a damn lab rat! Open your freaking mind for once-"

"My mind is made up. So do you know how to contact him or not?"

They stare each other down for several minutes, her brown eyes burning into his green ones. It's so silent that Lois can hear the ticking of the clock on her wall, like an angry heartbeat. No wait… there actually is an angry heartbeat, and it is probably her own.

"No. I don't," she asserts. "He came to me because he knows I'm trustworthy… which is more than I can say for you. Now get out."

With that, she marches to the door of her office and throws it open, gesturing briskly for her father to leave. It is with great resentment that he obliges.

_TBC..._

* * *

**A/N:**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**I'm not actually a journalist, so if I misrepresent the field, I'm very sorry. I go off of what research and tv/books/movies tell me. **

**Also, this chapter is a sort of filler? I mean important stuff happens in it, but the next chapter is super action packed, so this one seems sort of bland. **

**But you got some Lois/Clark bonding so yay!**

**Someone said that I update slowly? Saturdays people, until the end of the book. Once a week is faster than most people update tbh. **

**See you soon! Hope you enjoyed, and please review! **


	13. Chapter Twelve - Enemy

_CHAPTER TWELVE - ENEMY_

"Superman!" Lois calls at the top of her lungs, her hands cupped around her mouth. "SUPERMAN!"

Once again, she stands on the roof of her apartment building - the last place she and the Man of Steel interacted. As soon as work was over, she ran here so that she could warn him… somehow. Admittedly, screaming his name (or nickname) to the city skyline and setting sun isn't such a great plan, considering that he is probably off saving someone. But she has to _try_ at least- she has to convince him to hide before her father brings the full might of the military down upon him.

God, she is so angry at her dad. She hasn't even had time to smoke, with this on her mind.

Lois continues yelling for Superman for what feels like an hour, her throat becoming sore in the process. _Please, please, please_ _come,_ she thinks desperately as she does so, picturing his face in her mind. _I can't let my father do this. I just can't. _

But no silhouette streaks across the reddish-pink sky to greet her; no hero answers her hopes and prayers.

Just as she is about to give up, a voice behind her says: "You can stop now, Miss Lane."

Smiling, she spins around to see the costumed man that she somehow has become so familiar with, floating slightly above and behind her, like he did the other night. Soon enough, he is landing lightly on the building's concrete roof, his cape instantly ceasing to billow as if someone had pulled the plug on a strong fan.

He is even more handsome in the sunlight, she realizes, especially if it is setting. Indeed, he is quite _literally_ otherworldly in his appearance, with skin that is impossibly smooth for a human's, and muscles that are impossibly strong for anything on Earth. There is really only one way to describe him: godlike. He is _literally _godlike, both in looks and abilities. And thinking about such things makes her lightheaded.

His brow is furrowed and his gaze is focused singularly on her. The color of his eyes - their intensity - would normally leave her breathless… but right now she cannot afford to gawk uselessly. She needs to warn him.

"Finally," Lois exhales. "I've been calling you since… forever ago."

"I know," he tells her simply. "I heard. I was trying to prevent a pileup on the bridge."

"Oh," she flounders before regaining her determination. "Sorry for bothering you, then. But if you're done with that, I _really_ have to warn you about something!"

"You mean your father?" he says knowingly, giving her a pitying sort of look.

God, even _Superman_ knows how much of a jerk her father is.

"I… yes… but… how did you know that?" she sputters, "You _know_ that my dad is mobilizing a Lexcorp-armed military convoy against you?"

He shrugs, a sheepish grin creeping across his features. "I have very good hearing."

Overwhelmed, Lois blinks rapidly and pinches the bridge of her nose. "You're not… you're not God are you? Or an angel? Because _nothing_ about you is possible, alien or not."

His sheepishness disappears as he answers, replaced instead with drawn features that suggest that her words upset him. "I'm definitely _not_ God _or_ an angel. I'm just a person trying to help other people."

"Alright… fine," she concedes. "But shouldn't you be running away? Or hiding? Or _worried_ _at all_?"

"I'm not going to hide," he promises.

"So you're gonna turn yourself in?"

"I didn't say _that_. I'm going to talk to him - tell him my side of the story. I hope that we can come to an understanding."

Lois groans and presses her palms to her forehead. "Superman, Samuel Lane will not even listen to his own daughter, let alone someone he has labeled a '_dangerous alien_.' You need to trust me on this: my father will capture you, imprison you, and have you experimented on. Please, do yourself a favor and _hide_. You don't owe anyone _anything_."

Her pleading appears to have no effect, because his expression becomes more resolute than ever.

"I'm not going to hide," Superman repeats, looking over his shoulder toward the edge of the roof. "Besides, it's too late. They're already here."

As if on cue, a gruff, familiar voice booms through some sort of intercom; the sound is loud enough to carry for miles. "_Superman, by the authority of the United States Federal Government, I am ordering you to surrender to questioning immediately_."

She runs to the edge of the roof, where she is able to see about three hundred armed troops occupying the street below, along with several tanks that managed to squeeze into the busy, narrow city streets. As far as she can tell, it looks like a full-scale invasion of Metropolis.

_Great_, Lois thinks bitterly, _the man who gave me life is about to kill the man that saved my life. _

Out loud, she wonders: "How did he find us here?"

"I think that your father had you watched, believing that I would contact you," Superman informs her gently from behind her.

Lois spins back toward him, her expression a mixture of fury and horror. "He had me… _watched_?"

Those words are repeated numbly as she tries to process this betrayal. How could he invade her privacy like that? How _could_ he?

Superman, seeing her distress, lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes it softly, as if to comfort her. But she does not need comforting - she does not need his pitying, beautiful eyes staring into hers. She is _angry_ and needs to _scream_ at her father _right now_.

But before she can tell Superman that, she realizes that he has already released her shoulder and is descending toward the forces below, that ridiculous cape billowing out behind him.

* * *

Lois runs out of her apartment building, having sprinted down the stairs because she couldn't bear to wait for the elevator. From the height of the roof, it was nearly impossible to tell what was going on below, so she descended to the ground level as quickly as possible. Throughout it all, she barely had time to thank herself for changing out of her high-heels beforehand.

As she pushes the lobby's glass doors aside, entering the nearby street, she quite literally almost runs into some sort of police barricade. It blocks her from traveling down the road where the tanks and the soldiers are located - and where Superman plans to host his soon-to-be-failed negotiation with her father.

Now that she is lower down, she can both see and hear the situation much clearer. The soldiers are tense and aimed, the tanks are positioned to fire, and her father is in front of it all. He holds some sort of high-tech bullhorn, which is probably what allowed him to talk so loudly before.

And then there is Superman, who floats slightly above them with his arms crossed in a bit of an irritated manner. He is speaking - talking to her father.

"-find your terms unacceptable, General Lane," she hears him say. "Please, try to see this from my perspective."

"You're an illegal alien, son. Not even from this planet. You have no right to live among us," her father booms through the bullhorn. His words make Lois cringe, they are so blatantly xenophobic. God, does he even hear himself?

Superman gestures to himself. "I'm still a _person_. I have rights."

"_Humans_ have rights. You're not human."

Even from this distance, Lois can see Superman tensing. As he floats midair, he uncrosses his arms, allowing them to rest stiffly at his sides, as if he is resisting the urge to punch something.

If he actually is, Lois can easily guess who that "something" would be.

Crowds are beginning to gather behind the police barricades, trying to watch or hear what is going on. Once they understand the situation, people begin staring at Superman in wonderment. He is rarely stationary enough to be well-seen, and they are fascinated. Children point and exclaim and commuters snap photos, but one thing is abundantly clear to Lois: this area may very well become a war zone soon, and there are too many civilians around.

"I _grew up_ here," he tells not only the General, but all the people arriving. He is practically pleading with them. "I was _raised_ here. In America. At the end of the day, I like to consider myself a human being-"

"_Human beings_ can't deflect bullets with their skin," Lois's father interrupts. "_Human beings_ don't fly. This is your final warning. Surrender or we will attack."

Superman's tension does not ease. "General, you and I both know that would be foolish. No evacuation has taken place. There are hundreds of innocent people that could easily get-"

Even Lois hears her father's order, despite it not being broadcasted over the bullhorn: "FIRE!"

Machine guns begin shooting a rain of bullets at him, all of which bounce harmlessly off of his body, failing to even rip his costume.

"General, this is _pointless_," Lois hears Superman groan over the gunshots. Then, he swoops down, catching the ricocheting bullets in his hands before they can land on the soldiers below. When he is finished, he returns to his previous spot and lets the metal pieces spill from his hand onto the ground beneath him.

His gaze is hard as it focuses on the General, the cape still billowing behind him as he floats unharmed. Lois can see his inky, dark hair gleaming in the slanted rays of the rapidly setting sun. At the sun's low point, it is almost like he is framed in the light - a dark silhouette surrounded by a corona of light. He is terrifying and beautiful and mesmerizing all at once.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt, but I _also_ refuse to hide or waste my life away in some government laboratory," Superman declares. "So why don't we act _rationally_ and discuss a _peaceful _solution."

There are a few moments of complete silence and stillness, during which Lois begins to think her father is considering his pleas.

But those moments end with a bang and the crackle of electricity.

Nets are now being fired at Superman, covering him completely and tangling his limbs. As large sparks fly from the metal traps, he cries out in what must be pain. Lois then knows that the nets are electrified - maybe to a deadly voltage. Even worse, they accumulate over him as he writhes and yells in midair.

"That's it, boys!" General Lane yells. "Keep firing!"

Then something terrifying happens. The nets begin to glow orange hot, liquefying and oozing away until a beam of bright red light is clearly visible, cutting its way through the restraints from the inside. Eventually, the traps fall away, sizzling slightly, revealing their former captive: Superman, panting though mostly unharmed, with what seem to be red laser beams shining out of his eyes.

All sounds die down for a moment as everyone processes what just occurred: Superman… just shot _fire_ from his _eyes_.

And for the first time, Lois begins wondering what Superman _cannot_ do, rather than what he _can_ do. His powers truly seem limitless.

Eventually, the soldiers compose themselves enough to continue firing the nets and the bullets, but Superman is now zipping through the sky in a blur, dodging them with ease. It's strange; Lois knows that he can easily disarm them all, but he is simply avoiding their fire.

But then Lois realizes that if he fights back, he will turn himself into their enemy - now and forever. He is letting them try their might, attempt to take him down - but ultimately they will exhaust their resources and be forced to give up. And when it is all over, Superman still will not have thrown a single punch.

It's a good plan. Smart.

But then the tanks start firing. A lot of the shots miss, decimating the buildings behind Superman. Seeing their crumbling infrastructure, he flies toward them, using that newly-seen heat vision to weld stone into place. A woman - someone who was probably watching from her apartment - falls from a destabilizing balcony with a scream.

Lois closes her eyes for a moment, prepared to hear the deathly crack as she hits the ground, but no such sound comes. Time seems to slow down as she realizes that history is repeating _again. _Useless violence leading to the deaths of innocent people. Isn't that all this is? Wasn't that all Qurac was? How many times will she watch innocent people suffer for the sake of agendas and money? How many people will suffer because Lex is pulling the strings? She knows he talked her father into this. It doesn't surprise her that he has a vendetta against the Man of Steel; Superman did convince Blotner to rat Lex out.

Suddenly, she realizes that no sound has come. Is the woman alright?

Lois merely cracks open her eyes at first, then fully gazes out in surprise and relief. Thankfully, Superman is gently depositing the woman on the ground, where she promptly runs toward the police barricades. He, on the other hand, takes to the air again, though he glances back at her to verify that she made it out all right.

In his distraction, a shell hits Superman square in the chest, seemingly knocking the wind out of him and causing him to stagnate. Then, more proceed to hit him repeatedly, some with so much force that he is almost knocked out of the air. The last shell finally does it - shoots him out of the sky by smacking him in the side of his head. Lois hears the resounding boom of him hitting the ground, feels it vibrate through her whole body, and soon she is jumping over the police barricade toward the soldiers. She knows she shouldn't - they're still firing and the area is dangerous - but every fiber of her being knows that this is _wrong_ and that she might be the only one able to stop it.

A soldier manning the barricade yells and chases after her, but he was too distracted by the battle when he noticed her, so she is able to outrun him easily.

The artillery have finally ceased shooting, and the troops and tanks alike are pushing toward a dust-hazed spot about a quarter mile down - where Superman must have landed.

Lois keeps running forward, and the soldiers are so focused on their target that they fail to notice her. She stays near the sidewalk so that she can navigate around the units and the tanks, which are in the middle of the road. Unlike them, she is moving quickly, while they march on slowly and cautiously. Soon, she is shooting past them toward the landing-spot.

"What the-" she hears one soldier shout. "There's a civilian!"

"Hold all fire!" another screams as Lois keeps moving, though she can hear some of them surging forward to grab her, to no avail. She silently thanks her college track coach for pushing her so hard, back in the day.

"Damn right, hold your fire! That's my daughter!"

As she approaches, she notices that a cloud of particles surrounds the small crater that Superman formed with his landing. He is at the center of it all, somewhat sprawled but sitting dazed and upright, his hand rubbing the area on and around his ear. When he spots her running toward her, his eyes widen and he exclaims: "_Lois_? _What are you doing_?"

A part of her registers that this is the first time he has called her by her first name, instead of 'Miss Lane.' At any other time she would find such a change in behavior endearing, but right now she simply can't examine such things.

Superman rises to his feet just as Lois comes to stand in front of him, facing the throng of soldiers with her arms outstretched to her sides.

She can see the hundreds of soldiers and dozens of tanks, each with weapons trained directly on her. Everyone is silent - the onlookers, the troops, Superman, even her father, who can only stare at her like he has been slapped across the face.

When he is finally able to bring the bullhorn to his mouth, the movement seems robotic.

"Superman," he growls. "If you are taking hostages now-"

"He's _not_ taking hostages!" Lois yells as everyone goes silent again. It seems like the whole world has frozen, in awe of what appears to be utter stupidity on the part of a young woman who won't stop "protecting" a supposedly invulnerable alien. But as she looks at the street around her, at all the destruction her father has caused that Superman has tried to stop - at all the crumbling buildings and ruined homes and injured people limping their way out of nearby apartment buildings - her feet seem to grow roots that anchor her to this spot.

Superman is so close to her that she can feel his breath near her ear. "Lois, this is too dangerous. Go back with-"

"Lois, get out of the way this instant!" her father drowns him out, his voice booming over the intercom.

She lets her own eyes bore into her father's, which are as hard as ever. Then, in a sure voice, perhaps more sure than it has ever been, she declares: "No."

Her father seems to be going purple in the face. "Lois, move or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what? Kill me - another innocent bystander? Why not? What's one more?" she challenges, refusing to even rest her outstretched arms. She has become a wall - the one thing that stands between Superman and her father.

"Miss Lane," Superman murmurs urgently, his hand on her shoulder now. "It's not safe-"

"Trust me, he won't shoot," she assures him. "He draws the line at family blood."

Instead of addressing her father, Lois faces past the soldiers, to the crowds lined up at the barricades. Her posture is rigid, and she is standing tall. She believes in what she is about to say, and she will not be afraid or meek.

"How many times have we, as a species, punished undeserving people for _existing_? For being _different_?" Lois asks them rhetorically, glancing at the soldiers with mild disgust. "I mean, are you under some impression that this is _okay? _That this is _righteous? _Because this-" She gestures to Superman, to the sky and to the ground. "This is the hand he was dealt. He can't change where he was sent, can't change who he is. But he's still a person - he thinks and moves and feels. We have no right to treat him this way."

"Besides," she continues. "since when do we kill people for being Good Samaritans? So what if he can do things that the rest of us can't? We don't kill people for being the best athletes or singers or artists. Yet you are hunting him for being better than the rest of the human race in more than a physical sense. He has morals… integrity… everything that we should strive to have." She turns to her father now, along with his troops. "But all you do… is see his strengths as your own shortcomings. So you're all scared—and you're all jealous. And throughout all your talk of '_imminent threats and danger,'_ the only people causing real destruction… are the ones holding guns. And Superman's not one of them. So no, I am _not_ gonna step aside so you can capture someone just because they're not human. Because if 'human' is how you're all acting right now, then maybe I'm better off not being one."

No sound succeeds her words. Nothing but the breeze as the sun finally sets.

Then, like small but growing wave, shouts begin to fill the air from the crowds outside the barricade. At first, Lois thinks they are directed at her… that they are shouts of disagreement. But upon listening to them, she realizes the exact opposite - they are supporting her, screaming for the soldiers and the tanks to leave.

"Leave him alone!" she hears the recently rescued woman yell in particular. "You've done enough damage!"

"-Nothin' but helped people in this city! Do you know how many taxpayers' dollars it will take to fix this mess-" another man can be heard screaming.

They are a chorus of complaints - angry complaints, all of them protecting Superman and chastising her father. Many push past the barricades, coming to stand beside Lois in stances identical to her own. The gestures make Lois beam with pride.

Even the soldiers begin lowering their weapons, despite not being ordered to do so. Many are shaking their heads with disapproval that is not directed at Lois, but at her father.

Meanwhile, Lois's gaze remains focused on the General's glower. It seems that both Lanes are caught in a sort of staring contest, perhaps as another battle of wills. Then, with great reluctance, his bullhorn drops to his side, and he turns away from both her… and Superman.

"Sun's down. Visibility's too low," he says to the soldiers in a dead voice. "Let's pull back."

Then he retreats from them, the soldiers all following suit. The tanks are last to leave, filing behind the lines of troops, and once they are gone, Lois finally allows her arms to rest at her sides.

It is only a few minutes later that the street is completely empty of military personnel. The only evidence of their recent presence is the smoking destruction all around them, which Lois stares at with disdain. It seems that she has seen too much destruction lately.

"I'll fix it all. Hopefully, before morning," she hears Superman say as he moves to stand beside her. She briefly wonders if he can read minds, but figures that it wasn't hard to realize what she was thinking.

"He didn't… he didn't really hurt anyone, did he? As collateral damage?" Lois asks him, genuinely worried.

Superman shakes his head. "Not seriously. I managed to keep the buildings from destabilizing completely."

"… Good."

Then suddenly, they are staring at each other, speechless, her brown eyes seeking something in his otherworldly blue ones. He is looking at her oddly - is that admiration, or just surprise? Lois cannot tell.

_God_, there is something that should be said right now - they both know that. They owe it to each other. But how could they - how could Lois - possibly put the implications of the last few minutes into words?

Evidently, they don't have to. The crowd surrounding them is suddenly pressing upon Superman, eagerly asking to take pictures with him and shake his hand. He is perfectly pleasant, refusing to deny them, especially after they stood by him.

In the chaos, Lois slips away, back toward her apartment. She has been waiting all day to have a cigarette, and after everything, she thinks she deserves it.

_TBC..._

* * *

**A/N: **

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**Alrighty, new chapter is up! There was a lot of action in this scene, so please tell me how I did with that. **

**Sequel's coming along a bit slowly, but coming along all the same. I was considering some tie-ins to this story, or maybe some more Clois (or even WonderBat) AUs, between the sequel and the third book (yes, there will be three, so long as I stay motivated). I've been playing around with Ancient Rome or Greece or even High School AUs because I am the biggest dork in the world. **

**The next chapter has a very cutesy scene in it. Get excited. I won't reveal anything in particular...but yeah. I _love_ the next chapter. **

**Alright, I gotta run! Busy busy. Please review! That'll make my day and help me out a lot, as a writer. See you next Saturday!**


	14. Chapter Thirteen - Trust

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN - TRUST_

Lois's usual smoke break on the roof has a different soundtrack tonight - cheers. From 7:00 to 9:30, Superman can be seen singlehandedly fixing the damage from her father's attacks. Apparently, his actions caused a media frenzy, because thousands of people showed up to watch him making repairs. Jimmy even texted Lois, first to ask about some YouTube video that someone shot of her protecting Superman. Then he informed her that he would be joining the current crowd so that he could photograph the Man of Steel playing handyman.

Lois can hear the people scream with admiration as he puts on what must be the finishing touches. The claps and yells continue for a while, interrupting Lois's normally serene smoking session. But in a half-hour's time, all the sounds have died away - save for the usual noises of traffic. That must mean that the crowd has dispersed, and that Superman has flown off.

She wonders where he goes when he is not saving people. In fact… she wonders if he ever _stops_ saving people. What if this is an unceasing battle for him? What if he has no life _other_ than being Superman?

Lois knows it sounds bad to even think such a thing, but that sort of existence… seems terrible.

She brings the cigarette from her lips and exhales the burning air, thinking about how much destruction consumes the world on a daily basis. She has experienced so many terrible things in the last few months, just in this city. A city that now has Superman, so she likes to think it is getting better. But not everywhere has someone that can fix its buildings after a disaster, or rescue people that are falling from great heights. Is she supposed to just… accept that? That innocence means nothing?

The cigarette is back between her lips now, and she stares out toward the city skyline. She wonders if she has done something worthwhile today. Something that actually made a difference. The people below - the people who are now accepting Superman - certainly think so. But she knows that opinions change… that people stop caring after a while. That's what happened with Qurac, anyway.

Besides, her father can always come back.

Lois closes her eyes, thinking about how it must be to be Superman. He says he has enhanced hearing, meaning that he can probably hear _everything_ \- words of hate, despair, and apathy. It must be mind-boggling… traumatizing.

But then again… he can fly. Maybe his hearing is the price for such a wonderful ability. Lois can only dream of taking to the skies like that, of complete freedom and the possibility of adventure.

Just as she is about to stomp out the cigarette, she looks up to see someone not altogether unexpected - Superman, floating down to greet her.

"Allow me, Miss Lane," he says as he lands, outstretching his hand toward the cigarette. Lois is unsure of what to do for a moment, then points the smoking end toward him. His fingers close around it, effectively quelling the flame with a sizzle. He does not react to the heat whatsoever, but after the heavy fire he took today, Lois really did not expect anything otherwise.

"Thanks," she tells him lamely, not really sure what to say in reaction to that sort of thing.

Nodding, he replies, "No problem. But you know… those things are pretty terrible for you. I can see the chemicals going into your lungs."

Lois's eyebrows shoot upwards. "You can _what_?"

He freezes all of the sudden, like he has said the wrong thing. But she keeps interrogating him.

"You don't happen to have… I don't know… some sort of 'X-Ray vision' thing, do you?" she inquires half-jokingly, watching his expression. "Because if you did, that'd be really ridicu-"

Even in the darkness of the night, she can see a blush rapidly spreading across his cheeks.

"_O_h my _god_. You _actually_ have X-Ray vision?" she blurts, feeling an inexplicable need to giggle and blush as wildly as he is now.

"Well, I've never called it that, but I guess so," he mutters, becoming oddly focused on his own feet.

"Can you see through clothes?"

"Miss Lane-"

"Have you looked through _my _clothes?" she demands, raising an eyebrow.

Lois has never seen anyone look so scandalized in her life. His eyes widen, and he backs away a few paces "Of course not!" he declares. "I would never… not on anyone… "

And out of the blue, she is laughing at him hysterically.

"What? You don't believe me?" he says indignantly.

"The only thing I can't believe is your incredible willpower," she scoffs between peals. "Seriously? You've never looked at anything but people's internal organs?"

"Yes," he affirms. "And I'd appreciate if you'd keep that little tidbit about me out of the news-"

Lois raises her hands in mock surrender, indicating that his secret is safe with her, and he smiles a bit as his eyes find the ground again.

His behavior is unusual, to say the least. Whenever she sees him in public, he is always so strong, so bold. So invulnerable and untouchable and sometimes even inhuman. But right now… he is acting shy, which is far more _normal_ than what she is accustomed to, at least from him.

They are quiet now, in the sort of silence that usually follows a good joke or a lot of laughter. It's a reflective sort of quietude… the kind you experience before something fades away, or a line is crossed.

"Miss Lane," Superman begins, his gaze leaving the ground so that it can touch her own eyes. "I wanted to thank you for today. What you did… what you said… that was incredible."

Lois now suspects that she is the one blushing. In fact, she totally understands why Superman was so fascinated with the ground. The ground really _is_ totally interesting to stare at… especially when she feels like _exploding_ from the compliment. And it's not like she hasn't gotten compliments before; she just usually doesn't care that much. But from him… it's different. From him it means something.

From him it means that he respects her.

"Well," she replies finally, smirking a bit, "in the words of this really awesome guy I know: 'there's no need to thank me.'"

He chuckles at that for a few seconds before speaking again. "Well, I bet that guy hasn't done anything nearly as great as what you did today. You probably saved a lot of lives… just with your words."

_Christ,_ she is going to hyperventilate. Is he really telling her that she is _better_ than him? The idea is absurd. There's no way he actually believes such a thing - not after all he has done.

"I should have jumped in sooner," Lois protests. "Then we could have avoided-"

He places his hands on her shoulders and focuses his eyes straight on hers. They seem to glow in the darkness, like the electricity they seem to imitate. And with him facing her so directly, at such a small proximity, she can see the way that silly curl of his falls across his forehead, and the lengths of the lashes around his eyes. Lois doesn't dare breathe.

"You were perfect," he assures her. "There's nothing worth regretting."

A few seconds pass and they are still standing like that, with his hands grasping her shoulders and their eyes locked with one another. And suddenly Lois is glancing at his lips, because they are _right there_, he has moved so close to her, and they're those perfect, movie-star kind of lips. She could literally just lean forward, maybe stand on her tiptoes a bit, and she'd be kissing him…

Abruptly, he removes his hands and turns to look at the skyline, meaning that she is now looking at his cape and the back of his head. Lois feels her heart deflate a bit, mostly because she suspects that he knew what she was thinking, and worked to prevent it.

"You know, I thought I was going to die today," he informs her offhandedly, like it has been eating away at him. "I don't really know the… full extent of my abilities. I've never tested them. For all I knew, those tanks could have torn me apart."

"Well, they didn't so… hooray?" she congratulates him awkwardly, once again at a loss for words in a situation like this.

He seems extremely pensive at the moment, staring not at the city like she first perceived, but at the sky. It is then that she realizes what he is thinking.

Lois moves to stand beside him, proceeding to stare upwards just as he is doing. "They told you almost nothing, huh?"

He nods. "During the interview, you asked me why I was sent here. By doing this… by being Superman… I tried to find my own purpose. But the truth is, I don't know why I was sent here. I don't know who I am or what I can do or who my people really are. It's… it's…"

"-enough to drive a person nuts," she finishes for him.

The breeze and the honks of nearby cars become the only audible sounds to Lois, considering that they have fallen into that companionable silence once more. Throughout it, she begins to think, the gears in her head turning faster and faster. Eventually, a full idea forms.

"Listen, Superman," Lois says, turning to look at him directly. "If you want… I know a scientist… a Nobel Prize winner and a really fantastic guy… who might be able to figure out what and who you are."

"I don't like scientists very much," Superman admits, looking less than excited.

"And I totally get that. But this guy - Professor Hamilton - he's helped me with a lot of stories… even gave the expert confirmation on yours."

He rubs the nape of his neck, his eyes closing slightly as he does so. "I don't know…"

"Do you trust me?" Lois asks him.

She is startled by how quickly he answers, "Yes."

"Then you can trust him," she assures him softly, and finally, he nods in agreement.

They continue to stare at the sky for a while, admiring the moon and the faded stars, which are partially invisible with the vibrant lights of the city below. A part of Lois wonders how late it is now, while another part refuses to care. The moment has a rare, unique sort of serenity. The kind that comes with feeling… safe. Something that she hasn't felt for a while.

"Would you like to go flying with me?" he offers suddenly, like the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "It's just… it's just a really nice night, and we're staring at the sky even though we could actually _be_ _there_, and it's the least I could do after today…"

At first, Lois is so surprised that she doesn't know how to respond. But then she realizes what her answer will be - what it always will be, maybe for as long as she lives:

"God, yes."

A few seconds later, he has scooped her up into his arms like she is weightless (and to him, she probably is.) She entwines her arms around his neck and gazes at his face, which is slightly above hers. The feeling of being in his arms is somewhat familiar to her, considering that she has been there before, during the Lexcorp disaster. The gentle pressure along her back and legs is there, just like it was then, but she feels warmer this time - like he is holding her closer than before.

Then they begin ascending, floating somewhat slowly toward those softly glowing stars above.

The wind increases in strength, the higher they go. Soon, it is whipping her hair all around, and she seriously hopes that it's not hitting him in its wild state.

His voice is still audible over the wind, and Lois can hear him asking: "You're not afraid of heights, right?"

When she looks up to respond, she sees that his eyes are sparkling - even more so than usual. And right now, Lois cannot help noticing that he seems much more boyish than usual as well. Not in an immature way, of course; but in the air, with her right now, there is a sort of life and youthfulness that she has never witnessed in him before.

"Not particularly, no," she yells over the wind.

Superman smiles and shifts her in his arms. Now, he is no longer holding her legs, but has instead secured a strong arm around her waist as she stands upright.

"Then look down."

Lois obliges, and upon doing so, she gasps audibly. Never has she seen the city's beauty like this - not even from an airplane, where her view is always limited by a tiny portside window and thick glass. But right now, the world is completely open to her. She can see for miles - past the bay and to the ocean, across the cityscape and toward the forest surrounding the highway. Maybe she can even touch the dark, hazy clouds that seem to be hardly an arm's length above her.

And then there is the city itself, below her. The only thing she can possibly compare it to is a circuit board - a matrix of glittering, blinking lights of all sorts of colors, of skyscrapers that look like more like scale models rather than the real things, their windows reflecting the moonlight. In particular, she can see the gleaming, golden globe of the Daily Planet building, now at a toy's size, spinning steadily. It is so much unlike Lois's personal world, which seems to have temporarily stopped, along with her heart. But no… it is still beating, thumping against her chest as if it can punch its way out.

A little ways off, she can spot the Lexcorp Towers, and she briefly wonders how Lex would feel if he saw her up here, in Superman's arms.

"Well? What do you think?" Superman then asks her.

Lois glances up at him - meets the gaze that is trained on her so intensely. He can probably hear her heartbeat, she realizes, in all its hammering glory. Maybe he is worried that she is going to keel over from excitement.

"How do you _ever_ come down?" she exclaims, feeling a wide smile break across her own face.

"It gets pretty lonely up here, actually," he admits. "Besides, the ground has its benefits."

"Like what?"

"Good people like you," he tells her seriously.

That, of course, leaves her speechless and staring.

* * *

Lois is unsure of how long they were up there, flying in the sky. All she knows is that her heart has probably never beat so fast in her life, and that it is still pounding away when he brings her back to the roof.

She wobbles a bit when she stands on solid ground, and Superman moves forward as if to catch her.

"No, it's okay," she assures him as she steadies herself. "I've got this, thanks."

Then they are standing again, wordless. It's hard to speak after an encounter like this. It is quite possible that he has never shared this sort of thing - his flight - with anyone before, and Lois struggles to grasp the significance of it all.

Eventually, he speaks up. "Well, I suppose I should go."

Lois nods, albeit reluctantly. "Yeah," she agrees. "I've got work tomorrow, and you probably have people to save."

Superman returns the nod and turns away from her, apparently prepared to take off again. "Right."

At the last second, he spins back around. Lois initially thinks that he is going to kiss her, or maybe draw her into his arms. But instead, he poses a question:

"Why do you smoke?"

Lois is taken aback, seeing how the conversation topic is so random. "What?"

His expression is earnestly inquisitive. "Well… you must realize how bad they are for you. Plus, I know you're very smart - and stubborn enough to kick an addiction. So why do it?"

She is prepared to respond immediately… but then realizes that she has no answer - not one she can give directly, anyway. In reality, she has never fully contemplated the motivation behind her habit - mostly because she is afraid of what the real reason is. Yes, she knows smoking is deadly, but lately she has only accepted that it makes her feel better in times of emotional distress.

With the times of emotional distress usually associated with her trauma in Qurac.

Lois rubs her forearm, feeling oddly ashamed as she realizes what her answer truly is. "In Qurac… after I was shot… there was this doctor I met who smoked a pack a day. And well… I was curious about it. After all, he _was_ a doctor - he had to know about all the negative side effects. So one day I asked him a question like the one you just did."

"He told me," she continues, "that he smoked for all the people who died under his care. To make up for his failure to save them. At the time, I didn't really know what he was talking about. Then I started having these nightmares… and started _really_ thinking about how I was alive… while all those people were dead.

"Then I really understood what he meant. It's like… sacrificing pieces of yourself… for them… for the people who lost it all. And… it's really hard to explain, even to myself. But as soon as I was able to leave the hospital in Qurac, I went out to buy a pack… and the rest is history."

Lois is now staring at him pleadingly, willing him to understand something so abstract. Tears even burn at the edges of her vision, threatening to plunge down her cheeks, but she wills herself not cry over something as silly as answering a question. "I know it doesn't really make sense… but after witnessing something like I did… you just… feel like you cheated death… like you owe the world something that you can't repay. And I guess smoking is my best crack at it."

Then Superman is moving back toward her, but this time she knows he is not going to hug or kiss her. Not at a moment like this. Not when she is this vulnerable.

But the look on his face is just… is just incredible. Because by seeing it, she knows that he understands. Or he is at least trying his best to recognize how she feels, and is respecting that he will never quite see the situation from her point of view.

He reaches out slowly, moving to grasp her hand, and she lets him. The warmth from his fingers seem to spread into her own, and suddenly, she feels like a bit of weight has lifted from her shoulders. For a moment, she wonders if he can temporarily lend his strength to others, but soon realizes that the feeling… the feeling of not deserving to be alive… has really been weighing on her. And now that all this is off her chest… well, she maybe it has lessened a little.

"Lois… " Superman says, squeezing her hand gently. "Maybe it sounds corny to someone like you… but I think you survived those horrors for a reason. And whatever that reason may be… I know that the best way to honor those people's lives is _not_ to sacrifice the seconds you were given… but to make the most out of them."

With that, he slips his hand out of hers, proceeding to lightly tilt up her chin with his fingers. All she can do in response is blink at his encouraging smile, and in the milliseconds that her eyes are closed, he disappears.

* * *

For the first time in months, Lois does not dream of her time in Qurac. Instead, her subconscious relives her time flying as she sleeps, allowing her to relish in every pleasant sensation associated with it.

When a knock on her door startles her out of her slumber, she is actually furious. At first, she hides her head under her pillows, hoping to block the sound out, but to no avail. Then she resorts to praying - actually _praying_ for this intruder to give up and leave, but once again, no such luck. The knocks repeat and repeat.

Finally, Lois tears the covers away and stalks toward the door, vaguely aware that she is dressed in ridiculous flannel pajamas with Disney characters embroidered on them. But she is too annoyed and tired to be ashamed.

She flings the door open, irritated, only to become more so. Because on the other side waits none other than Lex Luthor, one of her least favorite people in the world.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she groans, prepared to slam the door shut in his face. She almost manages to close it when his foot wedges between the frame and the door, effectively acting as a door stopper. Hoping to kick it loose, Lois proceeds to slam the wood against his foot repeatedly. Unfortunately, he does not budge.

"Lois, I just want to talk," he tries to placate her. "Can we please act like adults here?"

"You know," she begins, "I distinctly recall telling the doorman to never let you near my apartment. How did you get up?"

He does not answer.

"Oh my god. You bribed him, didn't you?"

"Lois, I have to talk to you. If you'll just listen-"

"Why should I?"

"Because it's about Superman."

After a few moments of begrudging deliberation, she allows the door to swing open, and Lex promptly steps inside.

Like Lois's father, Lex is mostly unchanged. Same shiny, bald head; same piercing, green eyes. His usual suit has been replaced by a casual turtleneck sweater and khakis - the kind of outfit she remembers from when they were dating.

The fact that he looks so good makes her _angry. _

"The Man of Steel is your area of expertise, right?" he inquires smoothly as he begins to examine her apartment, his eyes darting from object to object. They seem to linger especially long on her nightstand, where he is probably remembering a picture frame that has since been removed - a frame that once featured them as a couple. Of course, after their break-up, she threw the picture directly into the trash can.

Lois crosses her arms and moves to block his sightline to the bed. The last thing she wants is to stir up any nostalgia from him, especially in regard to that particular piece of furniture.

"If you have something to say, spit it out. I don't have time for head games. Besides, don't you have people to murder… mass destruction to profit from?"

Lex turns to stare at her with an odd expression. It seems like… regret, perhaps. But she knows he is not capable of that, and even if he was, she wouldn't care.

"How many times have you met with him, exactly?" he asks with pointed suspicion, like he is trying too hard to make her think there is something wrong with meeting Superman.

"I don't know," she replies, feeling a sour taste invading her mouth. "What number is equal to the quantity of '_none of your business_?'"

He chuckles like she is being _cute_ even though she _really_ just wants him to leave.

"Would you cut the crap and tell me why you're here? Otherwise, I _will _call the police."

"Superman broke into my office last night," he informs her seriously. "Confronted me. Threatened me."

Lois shrugs. "So?"

"_So?" _

"You did sic my father on him - tried to have him attacked. Not to mention that he was fired at by _your_ weapons. I'd probably confront you too, if I were him," Lois explains snarkily, examining her fingernails with vague disinterest. "Actually… I _have been_ fired at by your weapons… and I confronted you. Seems to be a bit of a trend with you, to be honest."

"You don't seem to understand. Breaking into my office just demonstrates how dangerous he is. My security is state-of-the-art… yet he swept in like it was nothing - like he can do anything he pleases. What's to stop him breaking into the White House? Or the U.N.?"

"Morals," Lois answers simply. "Things that _you_ don't seem to understand, Lex."

"All I'm saying," Lex continues, as if he has not heard her, "is that you shouldn't trust him. I'm aware that he saved your life, but I suspect he has ulterior motives. Your relation to the General, perhaps. Or maybe he is just seeking to gain the public's trust, which you nearly secured with your little '_speech'_ yesterday. Now that we've let our guard down, it won't take long for him to conquer us."

Lois nods slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief and amusement. "Al-riiighty, then. If you're done being insanely paranoid, Lex, I have to get dressed for work. I'd really appreciate it if you left and came back… hmm… how about _never_?"

Lex places a hand on her shoulder, moving an uncomfortable distance towards her. His hand possesses none of the warmth that Superman's did - just biting cold that she can feel through her flannel pajamas.

"I'm telling you this because I care about you, Lois. You and the people of Metropolis. I want you all to be safe," he assures her, his cold green eyes gazing into hers.

She immediately looks away and points to the door.

"That's sweet. But you should sell it to someone who _didn't_ pull one of your bullets out of her shoulder," she rejoins. "Funny, I've never seen bullets with Superman's name on them. You sure I should be worrying about him?"

Lex is now closing the door behind himself. "Goodbye, Lois."

She wonders if he knows that she is working with Clark - on a story meant to ruin him, no less.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N**

**God, I love this chapter. I would marry this chapter if I could. (I mean, I have other favorite chapters in this story, but those are coming later on). But this one is nice and long and the writing's some of my best tbh. **

**Reviews are appreciated! I've been sick all this week and I've been having trouble writing the sequel, so some encouragement would really help my muse.**

**For anyone's who's interested, I have a tumblr. Username is loiz-lane (but with .com thing) so if anyone wants to follow me, please do! I post a lot of superman/lois lane edits and stuff in particular, but it is an all-encompassing comics blog. **

**Anyway, until next week! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! **


	15. Chapter Fourteen - Self-Discovery

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN - SELF DISCOVERY_

"So while I was interrogating him-"

"You mean _flirting _with him?"

"Oh for Christ's sake, Smallville, will you let me finish?"

"Sorry…I just don't think I've ever seen someone drop their pen so much… "

"So I used a little feminine charm. He would have opened up no matter what," Lois dismisses him. "Anyway, while I was talking to him, he started blabbing - big-time - and I found out the name of the guy who oversees the weapons deals. And guess what? He… is actually a she - a woman named Kari Pope. Colon described her as - and I quote - 'a hot, blonde badass.'"

Clark glances at her, seeming unimpressed. This time she is in his office, updating him on their shared story's current status as he completes a separate project for Perry. He continues typing away at his computer as he speaks with her.

"Lois, you know that's probably an alias, right? No one working for Lex would be that sloppy."

"_Of course _it's an alias. Thought that was obvious. But now that we have a name and a description, we can ask around about her. And I'd bet my press pass that _somebody_ knows something personal about her. Something we can track to her true identity… and to Lex."

"Why would you bet your press pass? You can just print another one… " Clark mutters distractedly, his eyes focused on the computer.

They sit there for a long time, Lois leaning over his desk with her cheeks in her hands, with Clark on the other side, working diligently on whatever humdrum story Perry assigned to him. She notices that his office is incredibly neat - with folders in nifty little shelves and pencils and pens in separate cups, all with points down. But unlike his apartment, this space is bare of anything personal. All she can see are papers and office supplies.

"You know," Clark interjects suddenly, "Perry's been livid, claiming that we're too distracted to work on other articles. He wants this story to be secondary - as in '_not being done on employee hours_.'"

"What?" Lois exclaims, sitting up. "That's ridiculous!"

"Preaching to the choir, Lois. Anyway, he seems to be under the impression that this is some sort of vanity project for you. He even warned me against working on it with you - he's afraid you're gonna '_tarnish my budding reputation_.'"

"Do you even _have_ a budding reputation?" she asks him jokingly as she plucks a particularly nice looking pen out of one of his cups and spins it between her fingers.

"Rude," he says monotonously, indicating that he has not _really_ been offended. By now, she figures that he has just acclimated to her personality, which is prone to distributing teasing and well-meaning insults, no matter how much she actually likes the people around her. One time, Clark even asked her if she knew how to speak English without sarcasm, and she promptly responded, "No, but I can speak normal Spanish."

That one actually got a laugh out of him.

And of course, he has started to act warmer toward her, now that they work so closely together. Sometime over the past few weeks, his nervous stutter even disappeared, and they now actively banter like they just did.

Underneath all the weird mannerisms that he exaggerates around the rest of the staff, Clark really seems like a decent guy to Lois - witty, intelligent, determined, and ethical to the core. In fact, he's probably one of the best reporters she has worked with (though she isn't about to tell _him_ that. The last thing he needs is an ego).

He works unceasingly, which is more than she can say for the rest of her co-workers, who always seem to shy away from extra tasks. Overall, losing him as a partner on this would, admittedly, _suck, _mostly because an article like this takes a lot of effort and frankly, she has enjoyed working with someone for once.

But once again, it's not like she's gonna tell _him_ that.

Lois exhales, prepared to tell him that it's _okay _if he wants to back out - if he wants to focus on his regular articles at the Daily Planet instead of working with her. She won't exactly deny that this is _a bit_ of a vanity project - meant to humiliate and incarcerate Lex for her own satisfaction more than anyone else's. But she _also_ knows that putting Lex behind bars will benefit everyone, so she's not exactly ashamed.

But then Clark speaks up, asking: "So, where do you want to work on this from now on? We can do my apartment or yours, or maybe a coffee shop - though the possibility of being overheard could be an issue."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you _sure_ you want to keep going, Smallville? Perry _did_ pretty much tell you that this could be career suicide for you. And obviously I'm not the easiest person to work with. You'd probably be better off doing your own thing."

"What, and let you snag the _whole_ byline when this gets published? Not a chance. Besides, we both know that I've done, like, _over_ _half_ of the work. You'd be lost without me."

She pretends to look outraged. "I don't know what it's like in Smallville, Smallville, but where I come from, lying is a sin."

"I mean, if _you_ want to back out-"

"-in what universe would I ever-?"

"-and don't you have deadlines to meet, anyway?" he asks her, lightly pulling the pen out of her hand and dropping it back into the appropriate cup. He looks up at her directly, his blue eyes, which are partially hidden behind his glasses, finally leaving the computer screen.

Lois scoffs, hoisting herself out of her seat and pointedly looking away from his eyes, which only seem to bring her confusion. "_Puh-lease_. I have my deadlines covered for the next week and a half. Only _rookies_ get behind on work." Her jacket, which was hanging on the back of her chair, is soon around her again as she glances at the clock on his wall.

"Somewhere to be?" he asks, his voice somehow more _knowing_ than genuine. And why would it be… unless he knows where she is going?

Lois shakes off the thought. "I'm meeting up with some friends after work," she informs him ambiguously.

Now, _normal people_ would probably ask for more information than that. And she knows _for a fact _that midwestern people tend to vomit their life stories to each other at the drop of a single "how are you?" (such behavior is something Lois can't stand about other parts of the country, which is why she prefers the grumpy Northeastern lifestyle). But even someone from Metropolis, or hell, even a grouch from _Gotham_ would be inclined to ask which friends she is visiting. No _normal person _would leave the topic unbroached.

But Clark, seemingly unsurprised and disinterested, just goes, "Oh?" and returns to his work.

And now she is annoyed. She is annoyed because some farmboy from Kansas should _not_ act so strangely and mysteriously that his behavior transcends the provincial. But here he is, acting weird, as always, and practically forcing her to wonder why… to make strange little conclusions for herself.

And now there's this nagging idea at the back of her mind… one that she's been pushing away because it's so absurd that she wouldn't dare to even fully voice it in her head.

Besides, Lois has probably been a little too suspicious about Clark lately. Maybe he just has no interest in her life whatsoever. Or maybe he has his hands so full with his article that he doesn't have time to concentrate on her.

And the way he hides - he probably has a social anxiety disorder or something. Or maybe he uses his mild-manners to score articles and interviews from right under the other reporters' noses. Maybe that big old suit is the only one he can afford, and he has a receding hairline, which is why he wears the hat. And maybe his eyesight is so terrible that only glasses that _ugly _and that _big _could fit his prescription.

He… he couldn't possibly be that _person_ that Lois's mind keeps relating him to, for abstract reasons. That person probably has _nothing_ in common with Clark Kent.

Not that there's anything _wrong_ with Clark's personality. It's just… it's just a physical impossibility. And Lois hardly wants to admit that said _person _consumes her thoughts so much that she has started thinking (and maybe hoping) that said person and her co-worker… her friend… are one and the same.

She shakes off the thought once again, suggesting, "How about we do your apartment tomorrow?"

* * *

"Incredible. Absolutely incredible!" Professor Hamilton beams as he excitedly scrawls notes on a tablet.

They are at Star Labs, where the professor has eagerly agreed to explore Superman's powers and origins. These meet-ups will hopefully become a weekly event so long as major disasters don't interrupt, stealing Superman's attention away in the process.

But most importantly, Emil's investigations will be as discreet as possible. Lots of people probably desire crucial information on Superman, for good or for ill, so Lois made confidentiality the first priority on this project.

So every week, Lois pretends to be interviewing Emil in his lab, where he shuts down any surveillance and asks not to be disturbed. (Lois figures that dirty rumors are probably brewing as a result, but she elects to ignore them). Once inside, she opens the skylight so that Superman can swoop down and begin to be observed by the professor… though always reluctantly.

Indeed, the Man of Steel is always fidgety and visibly uncomfortable when he is here. She can often see him eyeing the various scientific devices strewn around the lap with varying levels of anxiousness. It's _almost_ funny to think about - him being nervous. He's indestructible. Why should he be scared?

But then she realizes that his distress… or even just the unhappy look on his face… makes her vaguely upset. So then it stops being funny.

Now, Lois watches as the red light fades from Superman's eyes, leaving behind two beautiful, bright blue irises in its wake. He blinks a few times, as if the extreme heat he just produced is mere dust in his eyes, before glancing at Lois with a somewhat sheepish expression marked by a small, nervous smile. She smiles encouragingly back at him.

Emil steps toward the chunk of metal that has just been made into an oozing, glowing mass of melted material - a product of Superman's so-dubbed "heat vision." Lois can see that Emil is still visibly awed as he pulls goggles over his head and takes out some sort of sensor - probably one that detects temperature.

"Dear god," he exclaims. "That was Tungsten - it has the second highest melting point of all the elements. That means your heat vision must reach temperatures of _four thousand_ degrees or more!"

"Huh," Superman breathes, obviously unsure of whether he should react positively or negatively to this information. During this indecision, Lois sees him glance toward a nearby microscope, which has a few scalpels and samples resting next to it. The way he proceeds to fold his arms across his chest does not go unnoticed by her.

"That's awesome," Lois says loudly enough to attract his attention away. Currently, she is few feet from him, casually leaning against a wall. "You can bake cookies in milliseconds, just by looking at them."

He snorts and relaxes a bit. "I'll make sure to bring some next time."

"And make sure they're chocolate chip - not the raisin ones _masquerading_ as chocolate. I hate those."

"Please, Lois," Emil interjects, putting down his tablet so that he can examine the Tungsten even closer. "Don't belittle this incredible ability. Superman, you can weld cracking materials on the spot, disintegrate oncoming projectiles with a mere glance, cut through any obstacle just by staring at it long enough-"

"-pop popcorn without a microwave," Lois finishes for him, and is gratified to know that Superman chuckles as a result.

The professor shakes his head, mumbling: "I have one more test for today, I just have to go get the box…"

Once Emil walks off, heading into a closeted portion of the lab, Lois approaches Superman. Her high-heels sound oddly loud on the smooth floor.

"You okay?" she asks him quietly, searching his face for the answer. Overall, he looks rather tense.

"I don't like labs," he whispers back, his eyes taking a break from his constant examination of the room to rest on hers.

In response, Lois briefly grasps his hand and squeezes, much like he did to her own on the roof a few weeks ago. She can't exactly blame him for feeling this way, given how aliens are rumored to be traditionally treated by scientists. Dissections come to mind rather prominently.

"Hey, if anyone at Star Labs tries anything, I will personally beat them up. I'm a black belt. Third degree," she half-jokes, mostly because the idea of him needing protection is rather ridiculous. However, she is also half-serious, mostly because she is putting a lot of stock in Emil's ability to keep this arrangement quiet.

He is chuckling again. "Why doesn't that surprise me at all?"

"I'm a confrontational person. In a confrontational job. It makes sense."

Suddenly, Emil is walking back into the room. After immediately (and bashfully) looking away from Superman's face, she proceeds to drop his hand in favor of playing with a strand of hair near her own face. More than anything, she hopes that the blush burning across her cheeks is invisible.

"Did you find what you were looking for, professor?" Superman asks quickly - an obvious subject change, in case Emil saw anything to make him question them.

Not that anything _happened_. They were just holding hands. _Platonically_.

Lois suppresses an irritated sigh.

"Yes, I did."

Emil holds up a small gray box. It is smooth - metal, probably, and seems rather heavy, despite its size.

The professor proceeds to ramble: "Now, you have told me that your 'x-ray' vision is very acute. In fact, I suspect that there is a strong relation between your x-ray abilities and your heat vision. Scientists have discovered various forms of x-ray lasers, commonly known as Xasers, that operate much like your visual abilities do-"

"Emil, the box. What is it?" Lois interrupts, trying to get him back to the topic at hand.

"Of course, of course… Superman, can you tell me what's inside the box?" he says, holding it out so that Superman can see it clearer.

Lois waits for him to answer, considering that his x-ray vision should notify him of the contents with ease. But instead of telling Emil immediately, he continues to stare, scrutinizing it with an odd look of frustration etched across his features.

"I don't… I don't know. I can't see inside," he admits finally.

The professor nods and lowers the box. "I figured as much. This box is made of lead, the densest metal on the periodic table, and one of the only materials that can block x-ray radiation. Consequently, it can-"

"Block my ability to see," Superman finishes for him.

Emil nods again. "Superman, your powers are remarkable. Unstoppable… godlike, even. There probably isn't a person alive who wouldn't trade the world for them. But… everyone has weaknesses, and it will benefit you to understand your own."

* * *

Superman sets Lois down on the roof of her apartment building after flying her home from Star Labs. Once again, the sun is setting, streaking the sky with colors that took her breath away while she was in the air. A part of her wanted to stay up there for longer, and she was inclined to ask, but then she realized how childish she would sound and refrained.

"How do you expect me to ride in taxis after this?" she asks him as she regains her footing on solid ground. "You have irreversibly altered my expectations for transportation. It's terrible."

He grins. "I suppose you'll have to slum it, Lois. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be tough."

"I _am_," she says with mocking arrogance. "I mean, I can't singlehandedly stop gang wars in Suicide Slums like you did the other day, but like I said: I'm a black belt, third-"

"-degree. I wouldn't doubt or forget it."

"You better not… " she warns him in that same teasing tone.

He is about to depart, preparing to take off into the sky, when she says rather quickly: "Superman?"

He turns back to look at her inquisitively.

"The other day… God, I know I shouldn't listen to him… but the other day Lex Luthor came to talk to me."

Anger crosses his features, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. "Luthor? What for?"

Lois sighs. "He informed me that you… broke into his penthouse… and apparently threatened him. I think he wanted me to publish it in a story or something. Or maybe he just wanted me to stop trusting you."

"And have you?" he asks, his voice sounding vaguely anguished.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you really think I'm that _stupid_? I just wanted to know if anything he said was true."

"Partially true," he admits simply and unapologetically. "I did confront him at his penthouse. But not randomly. He was using some sort of… signal device. Something to get my attention."

"He _knew_ about your hearing?"

"I think he's been watching me for a while. Which is why, when I got there, he offered me an opportunity to work for him on his… less than legal endeavors. Said he'd make it worth my while."

"And what did you say?" Lois asks nervously.

"No, obviously," Superman almost laughs. "If I wanted money for what I can do, I really wouldn't be standing in this suit, would I?

"Anyway, I said no, and told him that if he didn't stop selling weapons to the wrong people, or encouraging the government to attack me, I would come for him. What 'coming for him' meant… was up to him to imagine."

Lois whistles in admiration. Though Superman may be a close contender, Lex Luthor is still probably the most powerful man in Metropolis. Threatening him like that… well, it's not something that most people can really get away with.

Superman shakes his head. "I promised to never knowingly take a life. But… I wanted to scare him. I wanted him to _stop_. So I intimidated him a bit. Maybe it wasn't the best choice for my image or whatnot, but I hope it was effective."

"So do I," Lois agrees, feeling for the bullet wound in her shoulder. Recently, it has stopped throbbing at random times. Maybe it has fully healed, or maybe she has just become so distracted that she can fully ignore it. Now she only reaches for it out of habit - as a reminder of what she stands for.

And she feels people like Superman… even people like Clark… whether they be one and the same or not… have renewed her hope a little - her hope that good people will stand up for good things, no matter the consequences.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N:**

**New chapter, everyone! Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is one of my favorites too (I happen to have a lot of favorites for this story). Thanks for the get well wishes last week! They meant a lot!**

**See you next Saturday! **


	16. Chapter Fifteen - Time and Change

_CHAPTER FIFTEEN - TIME AND CHANGE_

Lately, time seems to pass far faster than it usually does for Lois. A blink of an eye, and two weeks are over, and then four, and then six. Every hour is a second. Every day is a minute.

Maybe she is too busy to really pay attention to time. Or more likely… she is too happy.

And _of course_ time passes quickly when she's happy, because _God forbid_ that Lois Lane is actually content for what feels like hardly five minutes.

What Lois has enjoyed most is probably the predictability of all. It seems ridiculous - to love predictability. Normally she would consider such a thing monotonous… boring. But it's not. It's knowing what to expect, what to do, and what to feel. It's starting the day knowing you have a _purpose _and a _destiny_, even if that destiny is just to write stories and spend time with people that she considers close friends.

And yes, for the first time in years, Lois Lane has close friends.

What she can't believe is how long she went on, ignorant to the fact that she didn't have them. Sure, there were friends that she had in college, but she lost touch with them long ago. And God knows she'd never try to contact her high school friends; Lois likes to pretend that the high school version of herself never existed. (She was a bit of a party animal in high school, and she'll leave it at that).

But now, in her adult life, has she ever had anyone to really talk to before? And not just professional talk, or obligatory talk with a boyfriend like she had with Lex, but candid, genuine conversation? One where the listener actually cares about what she has to say, and vice versa?

Only Jimmy and her sister come to mind, both of whom have a considerable age gap from herself, making it difficult to relate to them. They have lives of their own in college, and she doubts that they would be inclined to discuss half of the things that she, as an adult, is interested in. Meanwhile, people like Cat Grant are mere acquaintances, and Lex was so domineering that she couldn't possibly consider him a friend.

But now that she has made actual _adult_ friends… well… she is allowed to express herself freely outside of the articles she writes, which is quite liberating, in all honesty. And such liberation could never have been achieved without the newly routine version of Lois's life. Routine and _busy_ \- so much so that Lois hardly has time to smoke anymore. Or maybe, after Superman's advice, she has lost her urge to use them.

Normally, she spends her mornings at the Daily Planet - though not technically. Most of the time, Perry sends her out of the office to cover in-city news stories, which are usually pretty interesting. Sometimes they're boring though, like whenever a politician gets caught embezzling _again_ and Lois has to commentate on how their actions will affect their campaign.

And then sometimes… sometimes she gets to report on Superman, which is always nice.

In these instances, Lois and Jimmy usually scramble to catch up with a police chase that he easily stops by air-lifting the robbers' car to a precinct. Other times, it's them standing outside of a hostage situation, one that he ultimately ends with a little super-speed and invulnerability.

There are other would-be disasters too - the kind that normally have double-digit fatalities, but with Superman in Metropolis, they no longer do. He's always at the right place at the right time - in front of a mother and a child who found themselves in the middle of a shootout, ushering inmates back inside after a catastrophic prison break, or welding an overpass back together when it falls apart.

To say that the city has grown to like him would be an understatement. They _adore _him now. _Love _him. Lois can't walk down the streets without seeing people of all ages sporting Superman t-shirts and other memorabilia (she won't lie either; she bought herself a top not too long ago). An investigation of city orphanages she undertook brought her face-to-face with hundreds of young girls who _swear_ that they are going to marry Superman one day.

Besides, the guy has become a one-man merchandise industry. Other than the shirts, his toys fly off the shelves. There are Superman-themed birthday party kits, costumes, office supplies, bedspreads - you name it. Companies all over the world are probably thanking heaven that Superman never properly trademarked that symbol of his, because they are making some _serious_ dough off of it.

But Lois is one of the few who feels gratified enough to truly know him. Whenever she reports on stories he is involved in, he always gives her a smile, pulls her aside, and agrees to an interview. Jimmy nearly had a heart attack upon meeting the Man of Steel, and made incoherent noises as he shook his hand. And, of course, Jimmy then asked to take a picture with him, which he immediately posted online with the caption: "I'm Superman's pal!"

Then, after he stops the catastrophe and gives his interview, Superman always flies off with a wink in her direction, mostly because he knows that she'll see him soon at Emil's lab.

And yes… the investigation into Superman's abilities and origins is still ongoing. Recently, the professor discovered that electricity could potentially be dangerous to him, if an extreme voltage was used, thus explaining why he felt pain when her father used those nets on him.

However, they still haven't found a limit to how much he can lift, or how long he can fly. But a small cell sample from the inside of Superman's mouth was enough to tell the professor that his powers derive from the sun - that some sort of 'photo-nucleic' effect occurs with his cells. According to him, Superman must have come from a planet with limited or weaker sunlight and an off-the-charts air density.

"When your cells absorb the light from our sun, they essentially become supercharged, and as a result, nearly invincible," Emil said to Superman in regard to this phenomenon. "Your planet… Krypton, is it?… probably had limited gases in its atmosphere as well - I hardly think your cells respire using oxygen and carbon dioxide at all. As far as I can tell, all you need is sunlight to survive."

Emil has started using the theorized features of Superman's planet, as determined by his biological adaptations, to identify what system he came from. It's a quest that Superman has regarded with excitement.

"Imagine if he finds out exactly where I came from," he once beamed. "Maybe I could contact my people… or go back…"

The thought brought Lois inexplicable sadness, but out loud she wished him the best. After all, he doesn't _really _belong on Earth… he's not human.

But Lois… Lois feels like he is - like he does belong. And losing him isn't something she'd like to experience anytime soon.

When her hours at the Daily Planet are over, Lois heads over to Clark's apartment to work on their article about Lex, or he comes over to hers. Progress is slow but considerable. They've hit a bit of a dead end about this "Kari Pope" person.

Oftentimes they'll go out separately to Suicide Slums or the shadier parts of the city, hoping to wheedle information out of unsuspecting or careless people who know more than they should. With Lois's good looks (so what if she's confident about her appearance?), she's usually able to flirt anything out of ny heterosexual male that comes her way.

How Clark gets so much information, she doesn't know. He tells her he hears things… which sounds an awful lot like an excuse a certain Man of Steel might say.

But of course she pushes that thought out of her mind.

Unfortunately, the name 'Kari Pope' seems to be one of hundreds of aliases, as Clark predicted. So far, people have only been able to to tell them one of her names or an occasional, varying phone number (which they have discovered changes every two days). Even worse, whatever locations she appears in once, she never appears again.

So usually after recovering disappointing amounts of information, Clark and Lois rendezvous back at one of their apartments to eat dinner and examine their findings. For these meetings, she generally buys pizza or Chinese food from nearby restaurants. But Clark, to Lois's delight and surprise, can _cook_. And not just '_throw together spaghetti and meatballs'_ kind of cooking, but legitimate, food-channel-quality home-cooked meals. The kind that make Lois, who is 95% take-out dependent, experience a watering mouth and a rumbling stomach.

Clark tells her that his mother (who he, being the farmboy that he is, affectionately calls his "Ma") is an excellent cook, so he takes after her.

And after a few meals at his place, which are usually unexpectedly fun between their investigation and their teasing of one another, she learns that every delicious thing he cooks is 100% vegetarian. Apparently Clark refuses to eat anything that was once alive and feeling, which she can't really say surprises her, given that he probably grew up around cows and pigs.

Plus, she once walked into his apartment to find a box of kittens which, he explained, had been abandoned outside, so he had taken it upon himself to find them each a home. That pretty much certified that Clark was a full-time, super soft-hearted animal lover. Normally, she wouldn't mind such traits… but she _did_ have a severe allergic reaction to those damn cats.

And with the weeks passing so quickly, Clark and Lois have grown very close - she can admit that. They share taxis to and from work almost every day - she enjoys his company and it saves them both money, so why not? Moreover, he has even offered to teach her how to cook (which has been a messy disaster thus far, oftentimes leading to ingredients exploded all over his kitchen).

Even during the normal weekday, they frequently spend their lunch breaks working together, usually at trendy little coffee shops. Sometimes, however, their "work" transforms into just casual talk without either of them really realizing it until it's time to head back to the Planet.

Clark, she discovers, has travelled all over the world. While Lois has globe trotted as well, her trips were always short stints from Metropolis-based organizations. But Clark has actually worked for papers in other countries, many of them third-world, and has thus lived in those places for extended periods of time. He knows tons of languages and can even speak them fluently - something Lois has always had trouble with.

And there are other things she has learned, just from spending time with him. She now knows that he hates coffee with a passion because it tastes bitter to him, which is why he chooses to drink hot chocolate. His favorite songs usually involve acoustic guitars and soft pianos (Lois is personally partial to hard rock or mainstream pop - anything that she can bang her head to). They share a lot of favorite movies, such as _Citizen Kane _and _To Kill a Mockingbird _and even the silly _Warrior Angel_ blockbusters. Books they tend to differ on. Lois likes memoirs by famous journalists or other successful people, while Clark is big on the classics, like _the Grapes of Wrath_ by John Steinbeck or even _Nature _by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Throughout it all, Lois is pretty sure he has gotten to know her more than anyone would want to. He's easy to talk to - a good listener. So she often finds herself rambling to him about her nightmares, which have admittedly become less frequent, but they still pester her nonetheless. She tells him about her father - about her childhood in Metropolis while he was off fighting overseas. Then there are the stories about Lucy's shenanigans, which Clark always gets a laugh out of, mostly because he is an only child. She'll also complain to him about past bad dates and boyfriends, about politics, about misogyny - essentially any topic she's passionate about (and there are a lot of them). Best of all, he always gives her a chance to speak her mind, no matter how controversial her point of view is, or how lengthy the rants become.

Unfortunately, as much as she tries to live her life unburdened by suspicion or confusion, Clark Kent still presents many undeniable mysteries. Like sometimes he just… disappears… for hours at a time. She'll knock on his apartment door and he won't be there, even though she _saw him_ go inside earlier in the day. Once, she questioned him about it, but he immediately dismissed her by saying that he just didn't hear her. Little did he know that it has happened _dozens_ of times - he just doesn't know it, and she isn't inclined to bring it up again if he's so intent on lying about it.

And then sometimes… sometimes he'll meet up with her, smelling distractingly like smoke, only for her to discover that Superman put out a fire a few minutes before.

Lois isn't stupid. She knows that coincidences only happen so often. And when it comes to Clark Kent and Superman - two men that she has befriended and grown to know so well - it's a little hard to ignore all the similarities between them.

Plus, there are times when she is speaking to him - when he is laughing - that his glasses fall to the tip of his nose, and she can see his eyes clearly. They are the same otherworldly blue as Superman's - she is almost positive. But then, when he pushes the glasses back up… she doubts herself. She fears that she imagined their color because it was what she wanted to see.

That's the worst part, she thinks. Wondering whether she's imagining it all. Because sometimes she can identify things in his voice, in his laughter, that she has heard Superman mimick before. And then there's his physical appearance besides the eyes: his height, which she can see clearly whenever he changes out of his suits into t-shirts or button-downs. His hair, which is the same inky black. And _especially _his smile, which is actually drop-dead gorgeous and incredibly contagious - much like Superman's.

And then there's just the _way_ he is - the way he just casually drops money into the cups of every homeless person he passes, sometimes greeting them by name. There's something about the way he asks to pet people's dogs, or the way he offers to carry people's bursting grocery bags to their apartments. Because all this… all this goodness in him is really, really abnormal. And frankly, she can think of only one other person who would go through so much trouble to help people for no reason… and that person is Superman

But she can't confront him about it, no matter how strong the evidence seems to be. What if she's wrong? What if she accuses him of being Superman, only to find out that he is nothing of the sort? What if he thinks that she is only spending time with him _because_ she thought he was Superman?

Or… what if he's not telling her the truth for an incredibly important reason? What if she endangers everything by admitting that she knows?

What if he just doesn't trust her enough to tell her?

Those are the things she cannot - and will not - risk to find out. So she spends her time like this: in between Superman and Clark Kent, playing journalist and friend to them both. She keeps up her routine and her pretenses of ignorance until she _knows_… really, truly knows that they're one and the same… and that he considers her trustworthy to know.

It's a frustrating existence. Happy, because of these two (or one?) friend(s) she has made, but frustrating all the same.

* * *

"You know, I think we should bring Superman into the fold," Clark says suddenly during dinner, as if the suggestion burst forth from his mouth uncontrollably.

They have been searching for Kari Pope for months now, but to no avail. Lately, Lois has noticed that Clark has been antsy - impatient with how little they have discovered. In fact, there are these times, when they are talking about Kari Pope, that he opens his mouth, prepared to say something that he has obviously been struggling to voice for a while. But then, right before he does so, frustration crosses his features and he decides to stay silent.

Lois's curiosity has been unceasing - she desperately wants to know what he is trying to say, and what exactly it has to do with their investigation. So when he started talking just now, Lois practically beamed with excitement… but now…

Well, as someone who suspects Clark and Superman are the same person, the whole "team-up" suggestion was probably the last thing she expected out of his mouth.

Lois stares at him for a few seconds, her mouth probably agape and filled with the cheesy-pie dish that Clark had finished cooking only a few minutes before. She practically wrestles it down before she chokes out, "What?"

"We should probably involve Superman in our investigation," he clarifies. "I mean, from what you've told me about him, he probably could find this 'Kari Pope' person easily."

A few seconds pass in silence before she is able to formulate a coherent sentence.

"You want… to work with Superman?" she says numbly.

"Well… yeah…"

Lois considers his words closely, her head practically hurting from confusion. If Clark really is Superman, why would he need to pretend to work _with_ Superman? It simply does not make sense. Does that mean he isn't Superman at all? Could she really have been so incredibly wrong?

She scrutinizes him for moment. There is a hunch… a feeling in her heart and her gut… that she, as a reporter, has learned to trust over the years. And she will trust that hunch - that Clark is Superman - right now. So like she does with any story, she builds her logic around the hunch, gradually learning why she is right _despite_ how things appear.

So why, if he truly is Superman, would he ask this?

Perhaps… perhaps he is growing afraid of all her interrogations. It doesn't surprise her that he is really bad at making excuses. After all, nobody else notices Clark enough to question his actions, so normally he doesn't have to create logical reasons for them. But Lois figures that she inquires too much for his liking; she is a mere inch from the truth, and maybe he knows it.

What's even more probable is that he, with all his powers and abilities, has found Kari Pope already, but he can't formulate an explanation as to how Clark Kent performed such a seemingly impossible feat. That would easily explain his frustration with the investigation - and with himself for not being able to tell her. He knows that if he reveals what he knows, Lois will ask about how he got the information. He can't fake a source - Lois always asks to meet the people he uses. And by now, they both know that Pope can't be located by just _overhearing_ conversations in Suicide Slums.

So he is creating this ruse to throw her off the scent. But has he really become so desperate that he feels the need to play a _literal_ game with her like this - to work on this story using _both_ versions of himself?

And then there's the part where this hurts a little, because if he is making excuses for himself _again_, then he is actively lying to her _again_. Lying to her face… because he doesn't trust her.

But then doubt creeps in again, insisting that he isn't Superman at all. Her hunch _could be_ wrong. After all, it's been wrong before.

With difficulty, Lois pushes all her swirling thoughts to the back of her mind and stares at him with as much pleasantness as she can muster. _Fine_, she thinks. She will play his game. But she will make her own rules.

"Sure," she replies to him finally. "Asking Superman for help? Sounds like a great plan. You want me to introduce you to him?"

This time he is the one that almost chokes. "What?" he gasps.

"Do… you… want… me… to…introduce… you… to… Superman?" she asks him with deliberate slowness, her voice almost challenging.

"Why… why would I want you to do that?"

Lois meets his eyes with forced innocence. "Well, we're _both_ working on this story together. It only makes sense for us to _both_ contact Superman… don't you think?"

He swallows visibly, and suddenly his stutter is back for the first time in weeks. "I-I really don't think that's a good idea. I-I'd probably just make a big fool of m-myself. Besides, h-he doesn't know m-me very well….I-I'd hate to make h-him uncomfortable."

_Yup,_ she thinks. _He's definitely terrible at making excuses. _

Out loud, she says, "You do realize that this is a pretty big opportunity, right? It's meeting the Man of Steel, for God's sake. Superman. Are you sure you want to pass that up, Smallville?" As she waits for him to respond, she raises her eyebrow and struggles to suppress a knowing smirk.

"Positive."

She doesn't press for further reasoning. Given the behavior she just saw from him, she's almost positive that Clark Kent absolutely _cannot_ meet Superman. At least… not without a mirror.

* * *

By now, Emil and Lois have discovered so much about Superman's abilities - things that the rest of the world probably can't imagine, mostly because it hasn't seen such incredible powers in action. They now know that a strong gust of air from his lungs can literally produce _solid ice; _that his senses of taste and smell are nearly as acute as that of his sight and hearing. There are other things that they have learned as well, such as the fact that his extreme durability can allow him to survive in the seemingly inhospitable environments. Even more surprising, Emil believes that Superman can probably forsake _breathing_ if he really wanted to.

Of course, those last two bits of information led Lois to joke about Superman traversing the galaxy with nothing but his cape. But when the Professor said, "You probably could," his statement stunned her enough to shut her up immediately. Of course, at the time, Superman looked the most surprised… and perhaps hopeful… of them all.

That's when nervousness began creeping into Lois's mind. If Superman can really just… _fly off _in the hopes of exploring the galaxy, what is stopping him? He is literally held down by nothing - not even gravity or a necessity for air.

There's one thing that she regards with ultimate apprehension: the day when Emil will inevitably locate Krypton. It's stupid and petty, she knows. After all, it's something that Superman wants _so badly_, meaning that if she really considers herself his friend, she should desire such a thing as much as he does.

But she is fairly certain that finding Krypton means losing Superman and - as far as she can tell - losing Clark. And is it truly wrong to feel anxious about that sort of potential loss? She is only human, after all, and humans will do anything to avoid losing the things they care about.

Because that's it, isn't it? That's her problem. She cares too deeply about him. More than she cares to admit, actually.

At the same time, however, Lois is aware of the stupid cliches that seem to permeate the world. She knows the phrase, "_if you love something, let it go_," and all its variations. Its true meaning and real-life relevance are not lost on her, no matter how corny it sounds.

So she refuses to be selfish as far as Superman is concerned. She resolves to never discourage Emil or Superman from continuing the search. She _will not _rob Superman of potential happiness to entertain her own petty wants.

After all, Lois admires Superman so greatly _because_ he spends so much time saving and improving other people's lives. Doesn't he deserve similar behavior from her? Shouldn't she support him so that _his _life can be improved? So that he can have what _he _wants for once? It would be downright hypocritical for her to violate the principle that she and Superman both hold in such high esteem: the principle of putting other lives before their own.

Ultimately, it turns out that she had no need to worry.

The meeting at the lab starts like any other, with Lois checking in at the front desk of Star Labs. The receptionist always waves her in immediately, now that she comes by so often. From there she greets Emil in his workspace, where he seems to be absorbed in something on a computer screen.

"Hey, doc," she says casually, hoping to divert his attention temporarily. "Whatcha working on?"

Emil's expression is dead serious when he turns to her, and his voice is absolutely toneless as he begins saying, "I've found it."

Lois blinks. "What?"

"I've found it. I've found Krypton."

Suddenly, it seems like someone has dropped a cold weight into her chest, making her feel simultaneously numb and paralyzed. Krypton found. Superman's people… found.

Though she is ashamed to admit such, today is the day that she has been dreading. It is the day that Superman will probably decide to leave - quite possibly forever. She will not lie to herself and say that she is ready for it - it will be difficult and unpleasant, no doubt, but she has enough faith in herself to know that she will most certainly go on.

An impatient knock on the ceiling's skylight is like a jolt of electricity through Lois's veins. It shocks her out of her reverie, allowing her to stumble over to a control panel on the wall. By pressing a button on it, she is able to open the window so that Superman (the culprit behind the knock) can swoop inside.

His cape flaps as he drops in beside her, and once he slows down, she can get a good look at him.

He is positively _beaming_, his eyes alight and sparkling, and his mouth spread into a wide smile. "I heard what you said," he informs them cheerfully. "Have you really found it?"

Lois briefly wonders if he can hear the nervous, heavy beats of her heart… and then further wonders if he even cares enough about them to listen.

Emil nods soundlessly, but Superman only brightens even more.

"What system? How far? Can you tell anything about the life forms or the civilization?" he asks eagerly, rapid-fire style. His smile seems more relieved now than excited, as it was only a few seconds prior. Realizing how bitter she must look in comparison, Lois tries to plaster on an expression that demonstrates happiness for him, but she doubts she fully succeeds.

Emil does not answer his questions. Instead, he stands from his spot at his computer and approaches Superman. The professor then proceeds to clear his throat before speaking.

"Superman… I'm afraid your planet is… _gone_."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: Sorry I'm a little late with this update! Like Lois, I've been super busy. **

**This is one of my favorite chapters (so much fluff awwww), so I hope you enjoyed it. **

**If anyone disagrees with the decision to make Superman a vegetarian, it's not actually my idea. _Superman: Birthright_, my personal favorite Superman origin comic, establishes Clark as vegetarian. And as a character who respects all life forms - especially animals - it definitely makes sense for Clark to be that way, so I included it. **

**And yes, Lois's suspicions are very strong now. But you know, there's lots of implications that come with the knowledge of Clark's dual identity, so she's treading carefully right now. **

**Additionally, I would like to point out that there will be a "mystery" aspects to this story (as shown in the description). Therefore, if any of you make serious predictions about the direction or resolution of the novel, I would like to kindly ask you to keep them to yourselves, and not in the reviews. For some people, these may act as spoilers (and there will be considerable twists in this story that can be ruined). This will be especially important as we keep heading down the "Kari Pope" route. If you want to make predictions, or have any questions about the outcome of the novel, feel free to PM me. Thank you! **

**NONETHELESS, REVIEWS ARE STILL VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, SO IF YOU CAN, PLEASE LEAVE ME ONE! LOVE YOU GUYS! See you next Saturday! **


	17. Chapter Sixteen - Alone

_CHAPTER SIXTEEN - ALONE_

Lois recalls her father's attack on Superman, during which the Man of Steel was hit directly in the head by a tank shell. The force of the impact knocked him out of the air. Ultimately, he received no lasting physical damage - only a simultaneously dazed and horrified expression on his face.

Right now, Superman has not been attacked. But his expression is completely identical to the one he wore that day, in that moment after being shot - dazed and horrified. His eyes are wide, his fists are clenching and unclenching, and his mouth is agape. He has not fully reacted to the news yet… has not quite gotten over the shock, otherwise he would probably be more upset.

Lois hasn't fully reacted yet either. Maybe she looks the same way.

"Wha… What do you mean '_gone?'_" Superman manages in a strangled voice. "I thought… I thought you said you _found_ it."

Professor Hamilton sighs. "I found what was _left_ of it. It might… be better if I show you. Come." He proceeds to gesture and walk back toward the computer screen, obviously indicating that they should follow. Lois notices that Superman walks stiffly, as if he has gone numb all over. But if Emil is saying what she thinks he's saying, numbness is the least she would expect from him.

Once the computer screen is in view for both of them, the professor points to what appears to be a simulation of a certain section of space.

"It took me a while to determine which planet could sustain a life-form such as yourself, Superman. But eventually, using Star Labs' telescopic satellites, I was able to pinpoint a particular system in the Andromeda galaxy that fits all of our qualifications."

The screen zooms into a specific portion of the previous shot, where a red star is visible quite prominently on-screen. Meanwhile, Emil continues speaking.

"Early on, I realized that a red sun in your point of origin could cause the photo-nucleic effect you experience in our solar system. So naturally, this star captured my attention. It emits far smaller amounts of radiation than our sun does, so if a life form is acclimated to this star's rays, an exposure to Earth's environment would surely have a radical effect.

"Now, all the planets in this star's orbit would be unable to sustain life for a variety of reasons. But… if you examine the physics of the whole system…" Emil brushes his finger over what seems to be an empty gap in a line of simulated planets. "… it seems that there _used to be _a hospitable planet located there."

Silence envelopes the room for a moment. Then, Superman demands fiercely, "Are you sure this is… was Krypton? Could you be wrong?"

When he turns to Emil, Lois is stricken by the contrast between the beaming Superman she saw only moments before, and the seemingly hopeless and despairing man standing beside her now.

And despite how much she didn't want him to leave before… she finds herself wishing fervently that the professor is _wrong - _absolutely, positively wrong. Because the look of pain on Superman's face is unbearable… chilling to the marrow, even.

But much to her chagrin, as well as Superman's, Emil nods with certainty.

"But… but I don't understand," Superman moans, stepping away from the computer screen like it is something poisonous. "What happened to it?"

Emil's tone is decidedly clinical. "Given how relatively unharmed the other, nearby planets appear to be, I can guess that the core of the planet underwent some sort of individual destruction, instead of a collision of cosmic bodies. Planets sometimes experience nuclear reactions in their cores… it's possible that something went terribly wrong, leading to the explosion of the planet and the irradiation of all its remnants."

Lois stares at Superman as Emil continues talking, watching as his expression becomes more and more pained and aghast. His eyes are focused singularly on his hands, which are folded tightly around each other, as if he is trying to grab onto _something _solid_. _Anything. But all he has right now is himself - possibly the last living Kryptonian.

"Superman… I know this is difficult to accept. Unfortunately, you must see it as truth. Why else would your people send you here… if not to save you from an imminent death caused by planetary destruction?" Emil says, looking at him earnestly.

At that point, Lois cannot take it anymore. She cannot take the complete and utter anguish that has consumed Superman's face. And she cannot take anymore of Emil's observations.

"Professor," she says in a quiet but stern voice. "Can you give us a few minutes, please?"

Emil hesitates, glancing between Lois and Superman with limited curiousity. Eventually, however, he nods and exits the room, heading out into the hallway.

She is alone with Superman now, who is still standing stiffly, staring at his hands as if he has entered his own little universe of misery.

"Hey," Lois begins, moving to stand in front of him. She places her hands over his own, cutting off his line of sight to them. As her fingers wrap around his, she squeezes them tightly in the hopes of pulling him back to reality. Despite this, he is disconcertingly unresponsive. Even when she gazes directly into his eyes, his stare does not meet hers - it only remains focused on their hands. "Talk to me, boy scout. Are you alright?"

She wishes she said something more profound… more empathetic… than '_are you alright_?'. Obviously he is not. Obviously he is grieving. His entire planet… his entire race… is _gone_, along with all knowledge of his heritage and ancestry. He is doomed to live out the rest of his life on a planet of _aliens_, ignorant to who he really is.

Lois cannot even begin to imagine what that is like. In this instance, she cannot offer him empathy. But she is trying to offer him her support. And her support is his, all his, if he's willing to accept it from her.

Lois is about to say something to express that sentiment… when she realizes that he is crying. Indeed, his emotions are shining through quite clearly, written all over his face, though he is not sobbing or sniffling. They are singular tears, only a few falling from each eye, that then proceed to run down his cheeks in tiny streams. As far as Lois can see, seem more like tears of commemoration than tears of true despair. They are tears in remembrance of all that he will never know.

He gently moves one of his hands out of her grip, proceeding to wipe his face clean of the water droplets, thus leaving no trace that they ever existed. When he finally does speak, it seems to be with great difficulty.

"I'm alone," he agonizes, his voice thick and his body shaking visibly. "God, I'm _alone_, Lois."

When he begins to stagger away, perhaps preparing to fly off, Lois moves instinctively, refusing to let him isolate himself.

Her arms are suddenly thrown around him, wrapping around his waist and under his shoulders so that she is embracing him completely. He is too tall for her, so her cheek only reaches his collarbone as she clutches him tightly.

In this moment - this moment marked by his pain and his suffering - Lois simply rests there, against him, reveling in the irony of it all. She is offering a real-life Hercules her own, minute strength. Is it even worth anything? Is she making any sort of difference? She doesn't know.

Her eyes close, and in the quietude, she can feel the rapid beats of his heart against her face… sense his ragged, anguished breathes and shaking body… even smell his scent, which evokes memories of cool, nighttime air, barely contaminated with the odors of city smog and ocean breezes. They are such _human_ attributes, she realizes. It's difficult to think of him as anything otherwise, right here, right now, in her arms.

"You're not," she assures him firmly. "You are _not_ alone. Don't you _dare_ think that… not even for a moment."

His heavy exhale of breath ripples through her hair, and then there are strong arms wrapping around her as well, holding her tightly.

* * *

Superman flies her back to her apartment that night. Throughout the ride, he is very quiet, and Lois cannot exactly blame him. At some point on the way, however, she interrupts the silence to ask about Clark's offer to have him 'join' their investigation. He quickly agrees, but in a soft, unenthused voice that fosters a sort of hollow feeling in Lois's stomach.

When they reach the roof and he sets her down, she stands awkwardly in front of him for a few moments, frozen, staring at him as the city proceeds to move and resonate around them. His eyes are still sort of gleaming… wet from tears that he is trying not to spill.

For a while, Lois has avoided broaching the subject of his planet any further, mostly because she feels that whatever comfort she might offer will be inadequate. But now she feels obligated to say something - at least before he leaves.

"Listen to me," she begins appealingly. "I know that I can't _imagine_ how you're feeling right now. That's a fact - one that I can recognize. But I _can_ tell you some other, very important facts:

"You've lost a lot - a whole culture, a whole past, probably even a family. But there's a culture _here_, and people _here_… that care deeply about you."

She exhales. "_I_… care deeply about you, Superman. So yeah… you may always be a little more _different_ than the usual 'everyone's a unique snowflake' schtick can cover… but you still have somewhere that you belong. And you shouldn't forget that."

Slowly, he begins nodding. His hand reaches out for hers, and she takes it, gripping it tightly and intertwining their fingers.

"You're right," he tells her after a few moments. "Earth has always been my home… and while I was _hopeful_ that Krypton could also be…" He shakes his head. "I've never known that place. I will never know that place. But I am thankful for all the kindness that I have known here."

He looks directly at her when he says the last part, like he is especially thankful toward her. And now there is an undeniable warmth spreading through Lois's chest, filling her veins, spidering its way through her limbs.

Almost as it has a mind of its own, Lois's free hand is soon cupping his cheek gently. She feels his gust of breath as he sighs, his eyes sliding shut, and his head now leaning tiredly against her palm.

A few seconds pass and she attempts to remove it, but his own hand raises and presses it back against his cheek, allowing himself a few more seconds of rest against it.

This stance, Lois realizes, is incredibly intimate - so much so that she begins to blush wildly. So far, they have been decidedly platonic toward one another… but this… this feels a bit like crossing a line into the romantic territory. And what would that mean exactly? That she is taking advantage of him during a moment of weakness? That he is letting her?

When his eyes flutter open, she sees him scrutinize her face. Then, after what seems to be a moment's consideration, a blush that mimics her own soon covers his own cheeks. He takes a step backwards, away from her and toward the edge of the building, thus dropping her hands in the process.

"I'll… I'll have news about that arms dealer soon. I promise."

Then he flies off, leaving Lois feeling oddly heavy-hearted and weightless at the same time.

* * *

"You will never _believe_ what Newstime Magazine just published," Cat Grant says as she steps into Lois's office at the Daily Planet, the loud clacking of her high heels announcing her presence.

Lois and Clark, having been interrupted, stop talking and look up from their piles of research - the basis of an article they are currently working on for Perry. It's yet another expose, this time putting Stryker's Island Penitentiary under heavy fire.

It was only a few weeks ago that Superman managed to prevent a major prison break there, and now, Lois and Clark are trying to determine how such a disaster occurred despite the guards' close watch. Lois suspects that a degree of corruption was involved, while Clark is convinced that it was external sabotage - a friend of a prisoner, perhaps.

Of course, all this arguing and investigating between the two of them generally means that they'd prefer to be left alone. But it seems that preference will go unmet, considering that Jimmy is also following Cat inside, holding something shiny and paper-like in his hand. Only Clark manages to look politely interested in what they have to say, while Lois impatiently asks: "_What_?"

Jimmy cautiously holds out a copy of the aforementioned magazine to Lois. "I'd just like to point out that I had nothing to do with this whatsoever - I'm just the messenger. So please don't kill me."

Lois snatches it out of his hand, scrutinizing the cover.

"Christ," she exclaims, now wary of Clark's anti-cursing ways. Though this particular situation may warrant some swears.

"_Lois Lane: Superman's Personal PR Agent, or Something More?"_ it reads. There is a picture of her interviewing Superman after a disaster, and further images collaged together, including photos of her protecting him during her father's attack.

Anger bubbles under Lois's skin, mostly because of how ridiculous the situation is. After all, here she is, actually sorta having feelings for Superman, and a _dumb magazine _notices before the actual Man of Steel seems to?

And then, of course, they are taking pot-shots are her credibility by questioning her objectivity. They're suggesting that she portrays him positively because she's in love with him. And you know what? Lois has actually taken _great pains_ to ensure that her articles are as objective as possible, despite how she feels about him. There has never been a time that she has told the public lies, even for Superman's sake. If there are any so-called facts unsupported by proof, Lois immediately rejects them as speculation. Whatever her personal allegiances, her duties as a reporter always come first in her mind.

She slams the magazine down on her desk and stands. A blush erupts over her face as she notices Clark almost frantically flipping through the pages of the issue. This affects him too, she realizes, if he really is Superman. It's probably just as embarrassing to him as it is to her.

"You know," Lois grits out, "I remember a time when Newstime _wasn't_ a tabloid. I mean, they might as well merge with the Inquisitor at this point, for all their reporting is worth."

"Well…" Jimmy starts, staring at his feet so closely that she can only see the bright red of his curly hair.

"Well, what?"

"We were wondering whether it is… sort of true," Cat finishes for him with a toss of her perfect blond hair. "I mean, you are the _only_ person who gets interviews with him. It makes people wonder, y'know?"

She falters for a moment. Even her co-workers think…?

Lois pinches the bridge of her nose. _God_, this is bad. This is very, very bad. Because not only is her reputation a bit tarnished by this crap, but now she has to definitively _describe_ what she considers her relationship with Superman to be, despite not knowing _how_ to _describe_ such a relationship. Plus, she has to give that _description_ with someone who may or may not be Superman in the room.

"It's really not our business, nor is it Newstime's," Clark interjects suddenly and sternly, holding up the magazine he has finished perusing. "The so-called proof in here is trivial and irrelevant. It's just a ploy to sell magazines, no doubt. Just because two people interact doesn't mean their relationship transcends the professional."

Lois freezes, torn between gratitude toward Clark for defending her and a sinking feeling in her stomach caused by his apparent dismissal of their relationship. _If _Clark Kent is really Superman, that is.

But after the other night… the way they held each other - she certainly knows that they are friends, at least. Romantically involved, perhaps they are not, but they _are_ friends without a doubt, meaning that they have already transcended the professional. All he's telling them is that they should not jump to conclusions… even if those conclusions are slightly true.

Out loud, she tells them: "Yeah. What he said. And you can quote me on this for Newstime: I tell nothing but the truth in my articles. Forever and always. No matter what personal allegiances I may hold."

She makes a mental note to avoid responding to the accusations of her romantic relationship with Superman. That way, she'll avoid lying to the public about how she feels. She'll keep her promise, and keep herself from looking like a fool.

* * *

Lois's day goes from bad to worse. Now wherever she goes, people point and stare, whispering about how she is "Superman's girlfriend" or something. One intern at the Planet even asked if Superman's private parts were the same as those of a regular human male's. In response, Lois immediately demanded that Perry move that intern to a lower floor, so that they will hopefully never interact again.

Clark tells her to ignore them, but she can't help feeling that it's easy for _him_ to say that. He's the one with the alter ego… with the secret identity. At least she thinks so, anyway.

Regardless, if he is Superman, then he can just escape into another persona. But Lois is just Lois, through and through, and what the world thinks of her _will _affect her constantly. The most she can do is push her troubling thoughts out of her mind temporarily, which she barely manages as she becomes focused on her article about Lex.

Tonight she and Clark are meeting up in Lois's apartment to work on it, but upon opening her door, Lois immediately notices something on her window.

Clark apparently does as well, because he asks, "What's that?" in an exaggerated voice.

Lois approaches the window to get a closer look. It seems to be a note, written on printer paper in permanent marker, that has been stuck on the glass with duct tape.

_Heard news about 'Kari Pope' - Tonight, Clancy St. midnight in Suicide Slums, under the overpass. Good luck. _

Under the scrawled words, Superman's signature symbol - the upside down shield enclosing an S - is drawn hastily.

Lois has to suppress a laugh as she imagines him flying outside her window, hundreds of stories up, just to tape this paper outside of her apartment. The very mental image is ridiculous, especially when she envisions him struggling to tear tape from its roll, like so many people do.

But she also feels the urge to laugh because Clark, if he is Superman, is really going to ridiculous lengths to hide the truth from her, even though the cause is already futile.

As she considers this, she sees Clark pretending to read the note, standing just behind her.

"Wow," he exclaims in the worst fakely-ignorant tone she has ever heard. "That was quick. We can go find her tonight."

Lois snorts.

"What?"

"Oh yeah, the tip off is all fine and dandy but…"

"But _what_?" he says, seeming concerned.

"How the hell am I supposed to get that off my window, Smallville? It doesn't _open_."

She does not miss the blush that appears across his cheeks, or the ashamed way he rubs the nape of his neck.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N:**

**The idea that heroes and male characters can't cry is really ridiculous to me, so therefore, I make all characters cry if I can. It's very humanizing to them, because EVERYONE cries. **

**I**** also got a very good question about Superman's weaknesses, which are usually limited to magic, kryptonite, lead, etc. But while electricity is not listed as one of Superman's "real" weaknesses, it has always acted as one. In Superman: the Animated Series, Livewire (Leslie Willis) was introduced as a major rogue, and it was suggested that the strength of her electricity could kill Superman. She was later adapted into the comics as well as a major villain for this purpose. Additionally, in the New 52, Superman was captured by the U.S. government, and high voltage electricity was able to knock him unconscious for relatively long periods of time. The general consensus is that electricity cannot kill Superman, but it can certainly harm him, if enough is used. **

**There are other "lesser" weaknesses such as these, like a vulnerability to high-frequency sonics (which are seriously harmful to his superhearing) and psionic attacks that can incapacitate Superman. They're not traditional, but depending on the writer, they can be deadly. **

**Overall, just keep in mind that this fanfiction is a retelling, so not everything will be absolutely true to the canon. Comic book characters are especially malleable, even IN THE CANON (the oscillation between Clark being vegetarian and not vegetarian is an example of this). In fact, my fanfiction also suggests that Superman doesn't need oxygen, but in the comics, he actually DOES (he just can hold his breath for a long time). However, the aspects I add are meant to contribute specifically to the story, so I wouldn't worry about how "accurate" they are. **

**Hope you guys liked the chapter! That *roof* moment between Lois and Clark is one of my favorites! Very sweet and intimate but not exactly crossing the line into romantic. **


	18. Chapter Seventeen - Weapon

_CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -WEAPON_

"_God forbid_ she does this on a weekend," Lois complains as she puts her earpiece into place. "I mean, I'm not exactly one to go to bed early, but we _do_ have work tomorrow."

"You know, something tells me that she didn't have our schedules in mind when she set this up, Lois," Clark replies, smirking.

Currently, they are both sitting on the roof of a building that overlooks the overpass where, according to Superman, an arms deal is supposed to take place in a matter of minutes. Hours prior, Lois bugged the area with listening devices, which she can tap into through the earpieces that she and Clark are now wearing. Plus, with the zoom-lens camera she borrowed from Jimmy, she should _finally_ be able to snap photos of the sneaky arms dealer that has escaped their articles for so long.

It's actually _freezing_ right now, especially this late into the night and the year. And while Clark was fine in his dumb beanie hat (which Lois can admit he looks adorable in), Lois spent her first few minutes here shivering uncontrollably. Luckily, in a move of discreet sweetness, Clark immediately moved closer to her so that they could share body heat. Now they sit, pressed shoulder to shoulder, their breath coming out as vapor on the wind.

Lois, overcome with boredom from the wait, considers smoking. But with Clark here… and the possibility that Clark is Superman, the person who encouraged her to give up the cigarettes… she simply cannot bring herself to do it. She feels like she owes Superman enough to listen to his advice - especially when she _knows _that the advice is good. Smoking _will_ kill her if she doesn't stop, and lately, Lois has been discovering plenty of reasons to live.

As she looks out toward the city, she realizes just how upset the state of Suicide Slums makes her. The smog is so thick that she can hardly breathe, and the lights of the tenements look ghostly as they stream through the smoke. There are unsettling sounds too - cries and screams, odd creaks of machinery, cold laughs and hollers. She briefly wonders if the sound of a gunshot - or perhaps a cry for help - would cause Clark to run off. But despite the confirmation it would provide, she is glad that nothing of the sort occurs. Obviously she doesn't want anyone to be hurt, but Lois is also simply enjoying his company - his warmth.

He too looks out into the city, and she wonders just how much he sees and hears - if he really is Superman, that is. Can he see Hong Kong from here? Paris? Can he hear car crashes in England? Earthquakes in California? And if so… how does he concentrate?

"They're coming," Clark says suddenly. He slides downward so that he is leaning against the roof itself, and Lois mimics him. Now, only their heads are noticeable as they watch what happens below - though only _hardly_ noticeable.

Lois takes out the camera and zooms into the area around the overpass. Suddenly, as if on Clark's cue, several cars skid to a stop right in front of it. Two of them seem to be rather old, souped-up little vehicles with roaring engines. The other two are shiny and jet black - classy limo-types.

It is not long before the cars' doors are opening, so Lois focuses the camera on one of the nicer vehicles. Out of it comes a woman, her hair short and dirty blond, and her eyes covered by an opaque pair of sunglasses, despite the dark of the night. Her outfit, like the cars, is jet black. Lois supposes that she would be very beautiful, if not for the severe look on her face.

She walks out toward the older cars, which soon have rugged-looking men spilling out of them. Some of them have guns, most of them have cigarettes balancing between their teeth. One of them - the driver of the first car - moves toward the front of the group, establishing that he is probably the leader.

"That's-" Lois begins after getting a good look at his face.

"Michael Polk. Leader of the Bay Demons," Clark finishes for her, barely whispering. "He's _way_ out of his territory. He must have a pretty serious reason for coming all the way out here."

"Yeah," Lois agrees. "And that reason is _guns_."

They quiet down so that they can listen into their earpieces as the two groups below begin to interact.

"_I have some top-of-the-line stuff, if you're interested_," a female voice says - Kari (or whatever her name really is) most likely. "_But it won't be cheap_."

"_What kinda stuff? And don't sell me that cop-level bullsh*t again. That don't fly in this town_," a baritone says - Michael probably. From here, she can see him casually re-lighting his cigarette.

A man accompanying Pope carries some cases out of the trunks of the cars, depositing them just beyond Lois's view - where they are blocked by the overpass.

Lois curses silently and hopes that they will move back into her line of sight.

"_I think you'll be impressed_," she hears Kari say. "_These are the weapons that Lexcorp usually sells to soldiers overseas. I've got enhanced-aim RPGs, machine guns with triple the average rounds per minute, armor-piercing bullets. Like I said - top of the line." _

"_How much?"_

"_Half a million."_

Lois hears Michael Polk begin to laugh mirthlessly. Meanwhile, she turns to Clark.

"I _need_ to get a better view. If I can get pictures of those weapons and match them with those in the Lexcorp lineup… this could be the proof we need to indict Lex," she tells him.

Lois glances over the edge of the building's roof. Suspended below her is a fire escape, which consists of a ladder and metal grate. Discreetly, she moves to slide off of the roof and onto the fire escape, which may be just low enough to see what is going on with the deal.

Clark grabs her arm. "Lois, don't. If they see you-"

She glares at him. "This is too important to me, Clark. I'll be fine. I've been in more dangerous situations than this - trust me."

"Why don't you let me-"

"Jimmy entrusted this camera to me, not to you. Besides, it's crazy complicated. I doubt you'd even know how to use it."

"I'm sure I could figure it out."

"Please, Clark," she says appealingly. "Just let me have this, okay? This could be _my _moment of truth… of justice. I just… I want it to be _me_ who delivers the final blow against Lex. Understand?"

Although he does it reluctantly, he releases her arm. Then, with her new freedom, Lois carefully jumps onto the fire escape. Luckily, by cutting off any possible vibrations of the metal by grasping the nearby railings, her impact hardly makes a sound. At least… not one that is noticeable above the din of Suicide Slums.

And, _thank_ _God,_ she can see the deal again. She raises her camera and continues snapping photos, especially ones of the weapons that Kari Pope has spread out across the ground to show to her customers. Her earpiece, meanwhile, broadcasts Pope's conversation, which has taken an odd turn during Lois's distraction.

"_-how can you charge half a million dollars_?" she hears Michael demand. "_An anonymous dealer has given me weapons far beyond these toys. And he asks for no money. So if you want my business, I suggest you lower your prices." _

"_Don't be cute. I know there are no other dealers in Metropolis. The police give them too much heat. My employer, on the other hand, ensures dependability," _Kari replies, her voice nearly as stern as her expression.

"_I don't know who the new arms dealer is, but I assure you, he is real - and his weapons are far deadlier than the crap you're trying to market to me." _

"_How could they possibly be deadlier? Like I said, these are top-of-the-line-"_

"_Maybe," M_ichael interrupts. "_But this man has given us the tools to take on Superman, not just police officers." _

Suddenly, Lois feels the ground shift beneath her, nearly causing her to drop her camera. The fire escape has shifted, and with a look at its rusted screws, Lois realizes that it is about to collapse. It probably has never held weight before, and now that she has introduced some to it, it is going to fall apart.

Lois is unsure of what to do. If she moves, it could increase the instability of the fire escape even more, but if she doesn't, she will inevitably fall.

She looks upwards, toward where Clark is still on the roof. Maybe he can pull her back up. Her mouth opens, prepared to ask for his help -

But then the ground is dropping out from under her, the screws having unexpectedly torn away from the side of the building. Now, she is falling toward the ground several stories below, without hardly a moment to brace for impact. A scream tears from her throat against her will - an instinctive reaction, and she thinks she can hear Clark yell her name.

The pavement hits her hard, its collision with the metal creating a mighty crash - one that will surely be noticed by the nearby group. When she hits the ground, she immediately falls into a roll that will hopefully disseminate the force of her landing, but it still hurts like _hell. _Not to mention that, during her roll, she rams into the remains of the fire escape, which landed right beside her. The camera gets torn from her grasp as well, smashing somewhere along the way.

The back of her head feels especially sore, and grogginess invades her consciousness. She is only vaguely aware of the sound of running footsteps coming her way and stopping right in front of her.

"-know who this is! That's Lois Lane. She's a reporter _and_ Superman's girlfriend," an unfamiliar voice says, its sound fading in and out as Lois fights to remain cognizant. "She must've watching the deal the whole time. If she spills, we are _so screwed-_"

"Well, the solution is obvious then. We kill her."

"I just said that she's _Superman's_ girl. Do you really want him seekin' revenge against _us_?"

"How will he know it was us? Besides, that's just tabloid crap. She's just his interviewer."

"I don't know, man…"

Lois struggles to sit up and glance upwards, and when she does, she is horrified to see at least six guns aimed at her face. Her heart speeds up and her head clears, thanks to a fresh jolt of fear-induced adrenaline. Briefly, she recognizes that this is yet another time she faces death indirectly due to Lex's actions

"She _can't_ tell him what she's seen here. Let's just end this," Michael Polk says, raising a machine gun. "We will _all _shoot her. He cannot come after all of us."

Despite her situation, Lois snorts. "That's literally the most ridiculous logic I have ever heard. _Of course _he can come after all of you. And he will."

Polk does not answer. Instead he yells, "End her!", and the group, Kari included, begins to pull their triggers…

But suddenly Clark has landed in front of her amidst the bullets, yelling, "LOIS, MOVE!"

And then he is carrying her away, past their attackers and toward an alley at incredible speeds. Lois's mind is still too groggy to really keep up with all the movement… but she is vaguely aware that the men were firing when he jumped in front of her.

Behind her, she hears Michael yell: "Use the big gun! They can't get away - they've seen too much!"

Without warning, something whizzes past her ear, meeting its mark directly in front of her. Then it, whatever it is, _erupts_ into a ball of flaming, electrical tendrils that utterly vaporize anything within proximity. Lois is thrown off her feet by the shockwave, or maybe Clark has pushed her down and out of the way - she cannot really tell. Now she is on the ground again, struggling to sit up, when she realizes that Clark is on top of her, shielding her body from the explosion with his own. His face is right above hers, and at this close proximity, she can see every perfect feature of Clark's visage… of Superman's visage.

As the ringing in her ears dies down, she can hear the gang still talking. "-don't see them. But there's no way they could've survived that. Probably got vaporized-"

"-we better go, before the cops come knocking. Guarantee they heard that blast."

"-Man, that gun really works. To hell with Luthor's old stuff."

Then there is the sound of cars screeching away, the noise of the engines fading with distance.

Once they seem to be gone, Clark rolls off of her, and she looks around. Somehow, he managed to move them behind a dumpster before… whatever that was… went off. Apparently, that "big gun" left the entire alley a smoldering, disintegrated mess. The entire front of the dumpster they hid behind has melted away into practical nothingness, and the bricks of the walls surrounding the alleyway are nothing but oozing goo.

At the point of the first impact, Lois can see a crater deep in the newly-blackened ground.

Now, as a military brat, Lois has seen RPGs and missile launchers. She even experienced tanks first hand a few months ago.

But she has seen nothing like this. This weapon… whatever it is… is incredibly new and incredibly dangerous. And it almost killed her.

Lois glances at Clark, who is also staring at the crater with inexpressible horror. She notices the bloodless holes in his clothes where the bullets must have hit him and bounced off harmlessly. And then there is the hole in the back of his jacket, cutting straight through to the skin of his back, which is slightly red - but that is rapidly fading. It must be where the heat of the explosion hit him, given the way he was shielding Lois.

There is little doubt in her mind now. Clark _is_ Superman, plain and simple. He is her rescuer, her friend, her _liar_. And now that she knows that he is the latter for sure, she is not sure how to feel.

But one thing is even more certain: there are now devices out there that can burn Clark's… Superman's skin enough to redden it. And if they can do that, even without a direct hit, then what could they do _with_ a direct hit? Even worse… what could they do to normal people?

And where, exactly, are these weapons coming from?

* * *

Lois has passed out only twice in her life. The second time was in Qurac, after she was shot, due to a severe loss of blood and a serious head injury. The first time, however, was when she did some mountain climbing in Nepal a few years ago. At the time, she was investigating how global warming affected the mountains' ice caps with a group of scientists.

Mountain climbing is, in a word, _awful. _The weather is always cold and always terrible. The sun seems simultaneously all-too-bright and all-too-weak. And the air is so thin that you almost always feel out of breath.

At some point on the climb up, Lois was just casually moving along, feeling fine. Then, unexpectedly, she found her vision blackening, and her body going limp. It wasn't long before she was entirely unconscious - to the point that she needed to be _carried_ down to sea level.

Even more surprising, the thin oxygen at her high altitude had _not_ been the cause. Dehydration was. Throughout the expedition, Lois had been too distracted and too _cold_ to take a sip of the freezing water she had been carrying around. It had seemed unnecessary, given the fact that she had been constantly surrounded by snow, which was frozen water, after all.

But forgetting to drink had proven to be a near-fatal mistake. Because amidst all the blizzards and other mountain climbing perils, she had never noticed her own body's internal battle to survive. When she finally did pass out, it was like a magic trick - one second, Lois was healthy and cognizant, while in the next, she had fallen to the ground, too weak to stir.

When Lois passes out for the third time, it is a lot like the first. One second, she is awake (though aching and maybe slightly concussed). She is still reeling from the Bay Demons' recent attack on her, and contemplating the creator of their new "doomsday" weapons. She is even well enough to think about how Clark is _still_ refusing to tell her the truth, even though he essentially just revealed it to her - though he did so indirectly, she can admit, because his abilities were used to save her life.

And of course, she's a bit worried about how much it's going to cost to replace Jimmy's camera.

But then, as she sits beside Clark near the crater, waiting for the police and listening to him fuss about how the fall from the fire escape could have killed her, darkness creeps into her vision - an unwelcome and unexpected intruder.

It makes no sense, because she _feels_ _fine_. She really does. But her brain is shutting down, and the last thing she sees before beginning to fall backwards is Clark's face, which is consumed by a look of absolute terror as he realizes what is happening to her.

And then she feels arms supporting her upwards, holding her close, moving her, before all sensation fades to nothing.

* * *

When she becomes aware of the beeping of a heart monitor, Lois wakes but does not open her eyes. Suddenly, she is consumed by the odd sensation that her life over the past few months has been a dream. Perhaps she will wake up right now, and find herself in the hospital in Qurac, still recovering from her bullet wound.

It's not a difficult idea to accept, after all. To be honest, meeting a gorgeous alien being, and subsequently falling in love with that alien being, seems pretty unlikely.

And now, of course, she is admitting (albeit internally) to being _in_ _love _with a person that she probably fabricated in her dream state - a person who, even in Lois's imagination, never seemed to fully love her back.

And when did _Lois Lane_ become so… in love with the idea of love? All her life, she has been a bit of a heart-breaker… a bit flighty… and more than anything, completely unable to become _attached _to the men in her life_. _In fact, she has had more one-night-stands than she would care to count, mostly because she finds the whole 'maidenly virtue' thing _idiotic_ and _sexist_, and enjoys perpetuating its irrelevance.

The only thing Lois has ever really loved - other than her sister, her late mother, and _occasionally_ her father (if he isn't being stupid) - is her job. She thought to be loved was to be tied down, and to love was to do the tying down yourself.

But now… if she opens her eyes and finds out that it was all a dream… that _he _was a dream… she thinks she might lose her mind. It would be such a cruel tease, hanging bliss and hopefulness in front of her nose like that, only for it to be ripped away.

And sure, she has been happy in her life, but even if it was a dream, it felt _different_ with him. Like every problem was a little bit smaller, every obstacle easier to overcome. And in his arms… she was weightless - in both the literal and metaphoric senses.

Plus, what was the point of such a ridiculous dream if she didn't at least get _one lousy kiss_ out of it? Her subconscious better not have created the most beautiful man imaginable just for her to _hold hands _with.

Lois suddenly hears the sound of approaching footsteps and a female voice - one that she doesn't recognize.

"Can I get you anything, dear?" it asks, but not to her, it seems. "You've been waiting here all night. Do you want a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, no thank you, ma'am. I'm fine," another voice - deep and soft and easily recognizable to Lois - replies.

Clark. Real and here, with her. Which means that she was not dreaming.

Lois's eyes flutter open, and she moans as she registers just how sore she is from that _very real_ attack. She must be absolutely covered in bruises from her fall, which she now realizes how lucky she was to survive in the first place, given how high up she was.

Upon glancing furtively at her nearly all-white, almost blinding surroundings, she realizes that she is, in fact, lying in a hospital room. But this time, she is not in Qurac, but somewhere else that she recognizes - Metropolis General Hospital.

Then, as she looks closer, she realizes that her bed is in the middle of a sea of flowers, each varying greatly in color and breed. There are red roses, yellow daisies, orange lilies, blue lilacs - and those are just the types that she can name on sight. The rest seem to be exotic, more vibrant and oddly petaled than anything she has ever seen, which can only mean one thing - they are from Lex.

"Ugh," she grumbles. "What happened?"

A look to her right fills her with relief, because Clark is right next to her, sitting on a chair that he must have pulled beside her bed. He is smiling slightly, like he is also relieved. The woman who was just in the room - a nurse, probably - must have already left, because they are alone.

"Vasovagal syncope," Clark explains. "In other words, you fainted. The shock of the fall, coupled with that of the explosion, caused your blood pressure to drop drastically. Oxygen couldn't reach your brain fast enough."

"Actually, I was talking about the flowers." She gestures groggily to the giant bouquets all around her. "It looks like a florist threw up in here. Let me guess - Lex heard I was in the hospital?"

A smirk begins to play at his lips. "You're big news, Lois Lane. Plus, most of Metropolis knows about what happened in Suicide Slums - not just Lex. That was a pretty big explosion, after all."

She groans again as she sits up, and Clark leans forward as if to help her, but then stops himself as he realizes that there is nothing he can do.

"But they're almost all from Lex, right?"

"Well, I know _at least_ a dozen of them aren't from Lex," he says casually.

"Really? And who sent that dozen?"

"Me, actually, but I think they've been lost in the horde," he admits, blushing a bit.

Then, before she knows it, there is a similar redness spreading across her own cheeks.

"Um… thanks," she replies. Then she proceeds to quickly change the subject. "So… did you write about what happened for the Planet? You better have left out the part with me _fainting, _Smallville. I would never live that down. I hope you just said I was hospitalized with an injury, or something."

His expression suddenly becomes very serious. "I didn't write the article at all. Ron Troupe did."

"Why?"

"Because I refused. That article was the last thing we needed after what happened, but Perry wouldn't listen."

"I'm still not following you, Smallville."

"Once Troupe made his report, the Bay Demons immediately knew that we survived," Clark tells her, his tone ominous. "And I guarantee that they _will_ come after us again."

Lois gulps, but tries to make light of the situation. "Well," she says, gesturing to all the flowers, "at least we know Lex has no hard feelings. Unless there's some sort of poisonous hibiscus hiding in here."

"Lois, this is serious. We just made some really, really dangerous enemies - people that have been known to kill anyone who stands in their way. Now, I've already asked Captain Sawyer to set up a security detail for your apartment, and she gave me this-" he informs her, holding up some sort of thick fabric that she recognizes as a bulletproof vest.

"It won't protect your head, I know," he admits, "but some protection is better than none."

"But Superman-" Lois begins, but Clark interrupts her.

"Superman can't be everywhere, Lois," he declares bitterly. "I mean, look at what almost happened to you, because he couldn't be there. Besides, they could find you at any time… on the way to work, after grocery shopping, while you're out chasing a story…and just… "

He trails off with an anguished sigh. "Please, Lois. Just give me some peace of mind, okay?"

Lois nods slowly, taking the vest out of his hand and brushing it with her fingers. "You know," she says, "what happened to me had nothing to do with Superman 'failing to save me' or whatever. And besides… Clark Kent was a pretty good rescuer too."

That leaves him rather stunned. To save him the trouble of thanking her, she quickly adds: "So...was Jimmy too mad about the camera?"

Clark chuckles. "You'll be happy to know that it's insured."

Lois exhales hugely. "Thank God."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N:**

**So, hooray! Lois is finally coming to terms with her emotions...and the question of Clark being Superman is finally solved. **

**It is at this point in time that the real mystery of the story will begin (yeah, I know it's late in the book, but this story is freaking long).**

**Someone asked why Clark didn't know that Krypton was destroyed. In an earlier chapter, I talked about how Clark will NOT be exploring his alien roots in this book. I'm working on the sequel right now, which is where his Kryptonian origins and heritage will be explored in depth. I won't give too much away. (Right now I'm only on chapter nine, so I need to get motivated). Just remember that this a fanfiction, which means that it's following its own timeline and plot-line, regardless of (though influenced by) the canon. **

**Also, I got a review saying that Silver Age Superman did not actually need to breathe, and that my research is not necessarily going back far enough. Given, I'm partial to the modern age Superman (John Byrne era through Post-Crisis) so I can't speak much for the Silver or Golden Ages (I can say that I own most of the modern age Superman comics, though). However, I do know that Silver Age Superman was so insanely powerful that it bordered on the ridiculous. In fact, he was portrayed so powerfully that the writers were forced to take extreme measures to reduce his power-levels into something less godlike. Otherwise, his complete invulnerability made for pretty lackluster storytelling. **

** In this story, Superman has to be more realistic than Silver Age Superman. He's not going to be lugging around whole planets on a chain, y'know? (And yes, that is something that Silver Age Superman/Superboy could actually do). I'd say that the Superman in this fic is about one level above _Superman: the Animated Series_ in terms of invulnerability. He has weaknesses - not many, but he has them (as shown by the effects of that weapon, dun dun dun). **

** On the other hand, Superman's ability to withstand underwater or space environments for extensive periods of time, even in the Silver Age, was attributed to his extreme durability. As far as I know, it was never suggested that he could survive without oxygen. Once again, I believe that it was suggested that his breath could be held for a VERY LONG TIME. I could be wrong of course, and even in the modern age, when it is specified that he needs occasional oxygen to survive (consult all the comics where he literally has to wear a helmet or mask in space), he can still do things like live inside the sun for thousands of years (like in _DC One Million_). So who knows? Comics are murky at best. Again, please just keep in mind that this is a fic, and it is subject to my own interpretations.**

**Anyway, see you next Saturday! Feel free to PM me with any questions, and drop a review if you can! It means the world!**

**P.S. Yes, I know that Suicide Slums and Hob's Bay are technically the same place in the comics, but I had them separated just to expand Metropolis a bit more. Just some creative license. **


	19. Chapter Eighteen - Proliferation

_CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - PROLIFERATION_

At some point during the remainder of Lois's hospital stay, Clark begins staring out the window, obviously distracted. A part of Lois feels like she can _see_ his super-hearing and vision focusing on something far-off, but she knows that's impossible, especially with how well covered he is by his hat and glasses. Then, after a few moments, he is bumbling and standing, pathetically making excuses about getting coffee. Lois pretends not to notice how ridiculous he is acting and encourages him to go, which prompts him to scurry out of the room with what she suspects is just a _hint_ of super-speed.

With that sort of odd behavior, Lois knows that something newsworthy must be happening in the city - something that Superman needs to intervene on. As she turns the television on to discover what that "something" is, she silently curses the fact that she is restricted to this _dumb _bed.

The television blares to life, and Lois finds herself sitting up and staring at it with horror. On the screen is what appears to be the remains of a bank, but it has been utterly destroyed. Its walls are practically melted, and fires roar all around it. There are even odd tendrils of electricity, sparking and shooting outwards occasionally.

People are running from the bank and the surrounding buildings, pouring out into the streets to escape the heavy smoke and the crumbling infrastructure of the whole block. Even from what must be helicopter footage, Lois can hear their screams and the yells of newly arriving emergency service workers.

"… _This is Heather Kelley of the Galaxy Broadcasting System, reporting on what appears to be a disaster zone in the financial district of New Troy. According to eyewitness accounts, a group of robbers tried to break into the Metropolis First National Bank's vault using some sort of unidentifiable explosive device. What you see now is the result_."

On the screen, Lois sees Superman arrive, and he immediately proceeds to swoop into the buildings, moving people out of harm's way and toward the emergency services outside. The camera follows him as he flies, his cape flapping behind him.

_Clark_, Lois thinks, staring at his steely face, which has now consumed the majority of the broadcast.

He seems to be making good progress on the evacuations, blowing out fires with his super breath as he does so. Soon enough, he is turning to a firefighter to exchange a few words, then takes flight, obviously about to bring something more effective to quell the flames.

"_Thank God - Superman has finally come to deal with this horrible disaster. Unsurprisingly, the cheers of the people below are deafening upon his arrival. Only last week, when a fire nearly consumed a set of apartment complexes in Bakerline, the Man of Steel not only singlehandedly put out the conflagration, but was also kind enough to fix the damage. We can only hope he will offer his services in this situation as well-"_

Suddenly, as the camera follows Superman's efforts, a ray of light seems to come out of nowhere and hit him directly in the chest. Whatever the energy beam was, it seems to expand from there, creating a ball of electricity and heat that _explodes_ with a blinding light and a resonating boom that Lois can hear not only through the TV, but from where she sits in the hospital.

Smokes fills the sky, and for a moment, everyone is left stunned and frozen, wondering whether Superman is all right. He has to be, doesn't he? He's indestructible, right?

Her heart nearly stops as she sees Superman beginning to plummet out of the sky, his body limp and his eyes closed. His descent rips through the plumes of smoke riddling the sky, and finally, he smacks into the ground below.

"_My god… what was that?" _Heather Kelley exclaims, terrified, her helicopter swerving in case she too is shot out of the sky.

Lois stares blankly at his body, which is sprawled on the ground in its own little crater.

_Get up, Clark_, she pleads silently. _Please get up._

Nobody moves in the crowds on the street. The people just stand, gaping, wondering what could have done such a thing to Superman. Lois almost tears her hair out, willing them to help him - to see if he's alright, but they do not.

And then the situation takes an unexpected turn for the worse. A man _does_ push his way out of the crowd, tearing himself from the grip of several policemen, but certainly not to help. He is carrying some sort of bazooka-looking weapon, now shooting it wildly, causing people to panic and run. The shots, which are the same as the one she saw the other night, hit the sides of buildings, even ones that were previously unharmed. Now they are all smoldering messes.

The camera zooms in on the man, its focus shifting entirely from Superman's unconscious body.

Whoever the attacker is, he has a bag strapped across his shoulder, filled with what appears to be cash. He must have been one of the robbers, Lois realizes. Maybe one that was still in the bank lobby, stealing from the tellers, when his accomplices misused their weapons to open the vault. That could be the only reason he survived.

"_It seems that someone has opened fire on the evacuation, using a weapon that can only be described as extremely dangerous," _Heather continues in a pitch much higher than she normally speaks in.

The man is running forward now, past the policemen and women that are too concerned with protecting the civilians in his line of fire. His intended destination rapidly becomes clear - he is heading straight for Superman, who is still comatose.

Lois gasps as he stops in front of Clark's motionless body, his gun raised. From the footage, she can make out the movement of the man's mouth as he says something that she cannot hear. She watches closely, and by lip reading, Lois thinks she can make out the words "price" and "head."

And then she realizes _why_ he is trying to shoot Superman, rather than escape with his money. Someone has put at hit out on the Man of Steel. On Clark. And whoever that person is… he or she is supplying weapons and money for people to meet this purpose - people like the Bay Demons or common bank robbers.

Lois is about to close her eyes, fearing what is about to occur.

But then a yell blares over the television, and its source - the man - has suddenly dropped his gun. Even from the footage, Lois can see its handle burning red-hot - probably as a result of concentrated heat vision.

And then, to Lois's enormous relief, Superman is staggering to his feet, grabbing the man by the shirt and lifting him aggressively above the ground.

Superman's eyes are glowing bright red, as if his heat vision is threatening to burn more than the gun. The man's head seems to be a particularly likely target.

Clark's expression, in general, is _beyond_ angry - it is absolutely _livid_. More livid that she could ever imagine it being, given how he usually spends his time smiling pleasantly.

"_Do you have any _idea _how much _destruction _you just caused?_" he can be heard saying, even over the broadcast. The crowds of evacuees stand silent, watching with a mixture of curiosity, approval, and fear. "_And for what? _Money?"

Superman rips the bag of cash off the man's shoulder, tearing straight through the strap. He then tosses it dexterously at the feet of a police officer about a hundred yards away.

"_Where did you get that weapon_?" Superman growls, his eyes glowing ever brighter.

The man can be heard laughing. "W_hat're you gonna do? Kill me? You don't _do _that._"

The crowd begins to whisper. One onlooker in particular - someone covered in burns - screams for Superman to _do it._ To kill the monster that destroyed an entire city block for money. And soon enough, more screams are filling the air, also urging him to do the same thing.

But despite their urging, the red light fades from his eyes, and Superman shakes his head. Then, he drops the man on the ground, flat on his ass, and walks away.

"_It appears that, despite public insistence, Superman has refused to kill this terrorist, instead choosing to turn him into the authorities, where he will await trial,_" Lois hears Heather Kelley commentate as the man is arrested and placed in handcuffs.

Clark, meanwhile, is filmed talking with Maggie Sawyer, with their apparent conversation topic being the weapon that has now been confiscated from the man. A few moments later, Lois watches as Clark hands it over to her, saying something that Maggie nods to. A request, perhaps?

"That was rather anticlimactic, wasn't it?" a cool voice observes quite suddenly. Lois tears her eyes away from the television to see Lex standing in the hospital room doorway, yet another bouquet of flowers in his hands. His eyes continue to glance between Lois and the television screen.

Her jaw immediately clenches at the sight of him. "What? Did you _want_ Superman to kill that man?"

Lex chuckles. "Of course not."

"Then what?"

"Well, we were _this close_ to eliminating the alien threat, weren't we?" Lex says casually, holding up his hand to show the tips of his index finger and thumb, which are _almost_ touching. He then moves into the room so that he can set the flowers down. At this point, however, there isn't a lot of empty space left to fill.

"Hm…" Lois hums. "Alien threats, I'm not familiar with. Human threats, though? Those I'm _very_ familiar with. One is standing in front of me right now, in fact."

She glares at him extra hard to get her point across.

"I know you won't believe me, nor will you agree with anything I say, but I really am here to see if you're alright."

"What? Are you feeling guilty after your crony nearly shot me? Don't know why you're starting now. To be honest, this whole '_almost dying because of Lex_" thing has become pretty routine for me," Lois tells him bitterly.

His face hardens. "I would never have you hurt. Ever. You have to understand that."

"I don't care if _you_ gave the kill order. For indirect reasons or not, I've almost died _many times_ because of you. And innocent people _have_ died. In Qurac, at the Lexcorp Towers, and on the streets when you sell your weapons to gangs-"

"Lois, I know you're intelligent. By now you must _realize_ that everything I do is for the greater good," Lex declares, looking at her appealingly. "Every action, no matter how immoral it may seem, is to maintain _control_ over the chaos that can't be stopped with _force_ or _words_. Sometimes, to stop the ungovernable spread of evil, you have to get down in the dirt with it."

"While incidentally making millions along the way," Lois remarks, unimpressed by his speech. "But it's nice to know that you're done denying all your sins."

"You're right. I can admit when I cross lines," Lex argues, his face rapidly turning red. "Unlike your 'Man of Steel' and his oppressive messiah complex."

Lois simply cannot believe that Lex is comparing himself to Clark. Arms dealer, arrogant Lex - better than cat-rescuer, farmboy Clark Kent? The very thought is impossible.

Now there is a heat in her face, and this time, it is not from a blush. It is anger. Pure and unadulterated anger.

"_He _doesn't feel the need to… how did you put it? 'Get down in the dirt' with evil to stop it. And so far, he's done a pretty _freakin'_ good job. Hate to tell you this, Lex, but people with power don't always have to abuse it."

Lex chuckles again, but the sound is filled with resentment. "I suppose that's what he tells _you_. Anything to gain your trust and make _me_ look like some sort of 'monster.'"

She takes a moment to consider his words, confused. Then, she realizes the meaning behind them. Needless to say, Lois starts to feel like she has been hit in the head with shovel. She is _that_ incredulous.

"Let me guess," she begins. "You've been reading Newstime?"

He doesn't answer, but that is confirmation enough.

God, she cannot believe this. He's not really here to check up on her. After all, Ron published that she was _fine_ in the early edition of the Daily Planet - that she was just recovering from an episode of syncope.

No, he is _literally _here to ask her to stay away from who he _thinks_ is her new boyfriend, like any ex would. Which means that A) Lex is jealous of Superman for taking what he thinks is his (aka Lois)… or B) that Lex is still in love with her. Both options are entirely possible, even simultaneously. And both options are seriously, _seriously_ bad.

The situation is so typical and ridiculous and un-Lex-like that she wants to punch something. Why doesn't her life make sense? Why can't he move on to a supermodel like any other billionaire does?

And why on Earth does everyone think she is dating Superman, even though, despite her deepest wishes, it is totally untrue?

Lois pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyed by the intensity of Lex's green-eyed stare on her.

"I'm _not _dating him, you know," Lois informs him honestly.

"But you wish you were, don't you? I mean, he's handsome, charming, _powerful_. He's all the things that make someone _seem_ trustworthy. I mean, do you wonder how he just happens to look the way he does? It's probably a disguise, you know. Some sort of distortion."

"Jesus, it's _not _a disguise_._ You're just paranoid. And besides… there's only one thing that I _wish_… and that's for you to leave me alone," she tells him angrily.

"You don't mean that," he insists, like he is chastising a child.

"But I do. And I _wish_ you'd hate me," she mutters, staring at her hands. "Cause it'd make it easier to hate you."

He scoffs. "Well, I certainly _should _hate you, shouldn't I? It'd make sense. At every turn you insult me… ruin my reputation…work to tear me down…"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"But I _admire_ that about you," he confesses in an oddly tortured voice, much to Lois's surprise. "You set a goal and you meet it. You never let anyone stop you, or tell you what to do. You're stubborn and you stand by your beliefs. You're dead-smart and snarky and cynical, but somehow, you still maintain a bit of idealism. Basically, what I'm saying is…" He sighs. "I'm still in love with you because… because you're my equal. And I want you to look past the black-and-white morals that you've been conditioned with (because I know that you can), and see that I _do_ care about you… and that I'm _not_ evil."

Lois doesn't know what to say after that, so she just gapes at him for a good few minutes. After all, _Lex Luthor_ just made a declaration of love to her. And not just any declaration - no, no, no. He was listing off the reasons why they are similar - why they are meant for each other. Is it possible that she is really _exactly_ _the same_ as Lex, at her core?

When she thinks about it, she _can_ understand why Lex would sell weapons to the gangs. Kari Pope claimed that he was the only dealer in Metropolis, which means that he could just as easily stop distributing to the Bay Demons or the other gangs if they became too dangerous or unruly. Why? Because he has unlimited, monopolized leverage over them.

And by selling weapons to Bialya - God, she can even justify _that_ logically - Lex once again achieves leverage. Is that the only reason why full-blown war hasn't broken out between Bialya and Qurac? Because Lex has been pulling the leash taut on Bialya's aggressive nature?

"See," he says. "Even now I can see the wheels turning in your head - realizing that I may not be as bad as you have come to believe."

But then Lois is remembering the disaster during the press conference, which put thousands of lives at risk. She remembers the way Lex sicced her father on Superman, thus turning Metropolis into a warzone, or the way he had a thug threaten Clark. And despite being able to justify what happened in Qurac logically, she _has_ _to_ believe that there was _another way_ to discourage war… a way that wouldn't involve killing a whole village.

Lois is now shaking her head fiercely, anger boiling in her veins.

"No," she proclaims. "I am _not _like you. I believe in a better way - a better way than fighting evil with evil. And if that's the _only_ thing that sets us apart, fine. But that's a pretty insurmountable difference in my books."

Lex now looks like his mouth is filled with something bitter. "And I suppose Superman is pioneering that 'better way' for you?"

"No. _I am_. Because I'm the one who's gonna prove to the world that you were wrong."

He stares at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable, before finally saying: "… I see."

Lex then takes something out of his coat pocket - something white and small and paperlike - and proceeds to place it on her bedside table.

"I don't know if you remember at all, but right before you left for Qurac, you helped me plan for the Lexcorp Winter Charity Gala," he reminds her.

"Yeah, I remember," she admits quietly. "I researched the charities for you. To make sure they were trustworthy."

"Well, I figured you'd want to see the fruits of your labor," Lex tells her, fixing the collar of his coat and moving toward the door. He turns to look at her from the threshold. "That's the invitation on the table. If you change your mind about anything… or even if you _don't_… you can tell me there."

Then, with that, he walks out.

* * *

"I mean, it's gotta be Lex," Clark declares fervently, a few days after Lois is released from the hospital. "Who else would know how to make weapons like that? After all, he _is_ the leading weaponry expert in the _country_, if not the world."

"Clark-" she interjects, but his tirade continues nonetheless.

"And obviously he hates Superman. Did you know he's started his own 'global protection' weapons line? And by global protection, he clearly means '_anti-alien_.' So who's to say he hasn't given his new stuff to criminals so that they can kill Superman for a bounty?"

"_Cla-ark_," she attempts to interrupt again, growing impatient. She is sitting at her desk, flipping the Lexcorp Gala invitation in her hands, feeling the glossy script letters inked onto the card with her fingertips.

"And only someone ridiculously intelligent (though sick in the head) could distribute and manufacture these weapons so quickly, and in so many varied forms. I mean, Superman has experienced at least _ten_ encounters with them. And some of them don't even fire electricity or heat - some of them use _sonics _\- which are probably even more dangerous to m… him given his hearing-"

"Clark!"

"Whoever's making these things…they have definitely been watching m-_Superman_\- quite a bit, learning all his weaknesses. And as far as I can tell, the only person _that_ paranoid or obsessive… is Lex. You should call your contacts at Lexcorp… see if they're developing anything like what we've seen. I know Superman has already given the guns to Dr. Hamilton to look ov-"

"_CLARK_!" Lois yells. "Would you stop for a second? I've been trying to say something for, like, ten minutes."

He looks at her, blinking and turning away from the window of Lois's office, where he was probably glaring at the Lexcorp Towers in the distance. Now that she has gotten better at seeing through his disguise, she can recognize the startled and apologetic expression crossing his features.

"S-sorry, Lois. Got a bit carried away. What was it you were trying to tell me?" he asks, reverting back to stuttering in his mild-mannered fashion. He tends to do that more often now - especially when he starts acting _too_ out of character for the Clark Kent persona, like when he goes on rants such as the one that Lois just experienced.

She sighs, sliding the invitation between her middle and index finger, thus holding it toward him to read.

"Lex invited me to his charity gala," she informs him with limited excitement and interest.

"Oh." He purses his lips, looking vaguely upset by the information as he crosses his arms. "I thought Cat was covering that. I don't think Perry will make you go."

She doesn't answer for a few moments.

"Unless you… _want_… to go…" Clark continues slowly, a twinge of dejection evident in his tone. "Did he… did Lex invite you as his date?"

"Not exactly… but I think that was what he was getting at."

He clears his throat. "Well… um… that's… that's really… really-"

"If you say '_great_,'" Lois interrupts, rolling her eyes, "I _will_ punch you."

Clark is now blinking again, his brow furrowed to evidence his confusion. "Okay," he begins, shaking his head slightly in exasperation. "… I'm really trying to understand what you're saying right now…but I think I'm failing miserably."

Lois chuckles. "That you _are_, Smallville."

"So you _don't_ want to go with Lex?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"_Because_," Lois emphasizes, "I'm trying to figure out how we can make this work."

"Make _what _work?"

"You being my plus one, obviously," she explains impatiently.

Clark presses his hand into his forehead and scrunches his eyes shut. "_What?_"

"Well, I'm not gonna purchase an evening gown for _ha-ha's_, Smallville. Going to this thing could provide us with important evidence about Lex's sales to Bialya."

"Bialya? What does this have to do with Bialya now?" he asks.

"Look, I helped Lex plan this thing, before we broke up. Which means that I have a pretty good idea of who's on the guest list. Almost the entire U.N. council will be there, including a dignitary from Bialya. If Lex is selling to them, then we might be able to catch them talking about it, _at least_."

"But… why do _I _need to go?"

Lois scoffs, raising her eyebrows. "What? You want me to go to this thing _alone_? Then Lex will really think I've come as his date, won't he? And that's pretty much the _last_ _thing_ I want at this point."

"Okay, well…" he continues, staring at the floor with frustration, "why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"Well, I _thought_ it was implied. I mean, c'mon, Smallville. Did you really think I'd want to go with _Lex_? After everything?" she demands, her eyebrows raised.

"_I don't know_! You were being really unclear, to be honest. And I didn't want to offend you or anything," he says, seeming oddly flustered.

Lois snorts. "Clark Kent - if you truly believe that I am considering another date with Lex, the first thing you should do is bring me to a mental institution, regardless of whatever _offense_ I may take."

He moves away from the window, proceeding to lean against her desk with his hands in his pockets. He is smirking when he says almost challengingly: "Like anyone'd be able to bring you _anywhere_ against your will. You're too stubborn."

"True," she says pointedly, returning his expression. "And I am _stubbornly_ refusing to change the subject until you tell me whether you'll go to the gala."

"Of course I'll go. So long as you want me there."

"Well… I do want you," she tells him casually. But then she recognizes the accidental innuendo under her words, and to rectify the situation, she feverishly stammers: "I… I want you _there_, I mean. At the gala."

Now, she points her gaze decidedly on the wooden surface of the desk, away from whatever scandalized look that he has probably started wearing. She knows that her eyes are wide from embarrassment, and currently, she is fighting a losing battle against a red-hot blush that is determined to turn her face into a giant tomato. Even her breathing is difficult, but that could be because of the tight bulletproof vest that sits under her blouse.

A quick, discreet glance a Clark shows her that he too is blushing visibly, despite the shadow of his thick glasses. Obviously, her slip-up did not go unnoticed by him. Not by a long shot.

Lois resists the urge to run out of the room screaming.

_Christ_, she is acting like an idiot.

Clark attempts to clear his throat one more time. From the corner of her eye, Lois can see him pulling at the collar of his suit, like he is suddenly too warm. Did she really embarrass him that much?

"Um… when and where is the gala? Just so I can have some warning."

She gulps, but manages to speak in her regular voice, _thank God_. "It's next Friday. Lex is hosting it at the Halldorf."

"Yikes. That's not a lot of time to pick up a tux," he observes, seemingly legitimately concerned about it (and thankfully forgetful about her last reply).

Lois laughs nervously. "You'll be fine. My only rule is that you can't wear plaid - and I mean that, farmboy."

"_Shucks_," he exclaims sarcastically, snapping his fingers in an exaggerated manner. "There goes _that_ plan.

"I'll also make sure to look _so amazing_ that _nobody_ notices whatever ugly, last-minute tux you end up stuck with."

He returns the laugh, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, thus leaving Lois feeling a bit warmer and a bit lighter.

"I'll hold you to that."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I STILL DO NOT OWN ANYTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N:**

**Guys, the sequel is coming along! I'm like 200 pages in, and jeez, it's also gonna be a long book. I've still got a lot of plot to get through. **

**THE BANTER IN THIS CHAPTER IS SOME OF MY FAVORITE. LOIS'S SLIP UP IS GREATTTT. **

**But I had Lex come in to give you all the heebie jeebies. Or who knows? Maybe some readers think Lex is the better choice for Lois right now. In my opinion, however, Lex is a jerk who you love to hate, so that's what I will continue portraying him as until further notice. **

**And yes, I'm doing the cheesy charity gala thing because I want a slow dance scene (which you will be getting). Scenes like those were my incentive for writing the story, so cut me some slack. **

***shameless advertising* If you guys like superman and lois lane as much as I do, you can follow me on tumblr at the url loislanne (and then the tumblr dot com thing)**

**And my birthday was on Wednesday and I spent it writing! Lol, I'm so lameeee. But also I love this universe thing that I've made, which was why I still enjoyed said lame birthday. I'm thinking about calling these stories the _Hope_ _DC Universe_. There'll be 3 books to Lois and Superman's story, if I'm lucky, with some tie-ins. And then something Batman and Wonder Woman related, and if I really get motivated, something Green Lantern related too. But I can't make promises because y'know me - busy busy. But the stuff is totally planned out. I've just got to complete it in under fifty years.**

**Anyway, see you all on Saturday! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! **


	20. Chapter Nineteen - Appearances

_CHAPTER NINETEEN - APPEARANCES_

It seems odd, planning to go to a _party_ when Metropolis is falling into utter chaos. At this point, it's almost impossible to keep track of all the times that Superman has _just managed_ to stop criminals sporting those powerful weapons - weapons that seemed designed to defeat _him_ in particular.

Yesterday, Lois was covering a news story, which was focused on Superman's defeat of an arsonist who got his hands on one of those guns. The guy had been rampaging in Bakerline, destroying everything in sight, before the Man of Steel had intervened. Unfortunately, this arsonist's particular weapon had emitted sonic blasts - the ones that Clark mentioned to Lois last week. When Clark finally staggered into work, obviously post-battle, Lois briefly saw him dabbing at his ears with a tissue. Soon enough, he was casually tossing the paper in the trashcan and walking away, but Lois was intrigued, so she briefly looked inside the waste-bin.

The tissue he had dropped was stained with dark red blood. Clark… Superman… had actually _bled_ after that attack. Before that moment, Lois hadn't even known that Clark _could_ bleed.

She can tell that he is at a loss. Dr. Hamilton has been completely unable to identify the creator of the weapons, though he promised to keep looking. But his lack of progress has allowed the guns to spread throughout Metropolis, cropping up in groups ranging from major gangs with agendas to muggers with big ideas.

In her last interview with Superman, he told her that he would be laying low for a while - simply because he seemed to be a target for these attackers. Unfortunately, the criminals with the weapons soon made a point of rampaging with or without Superman's arrival, thus forcing the Man of Steel to reenter the fray anyway.

Whatever is going on in Metropolis right now, it truly seems to have no answer. Even if someone managed to kill Superman (which she hopes to God never happens), it seems like the attacks will continue anyway. Because at this point, the weapons have already spread across the city, and the police are helpless to stop their use at the leisure of those possessing them.

But despite all that, the Lexcorp Charity Gala is still going on, and Lois still maintains the vain hope that catching Lex will end all these problems. And since Kari Pope has fallen off the map, even beyond what Superman's senses can detect, this gala may be their last chance.

Now, she stands in front of a full-body mirror in her apartment, examining the floor-length gown that she has just dressed herself in. Its color is uniquely appealing to Lois, given its dark green shade, and the quality of its ruffled satin, which seems to gleam in the right kind of light. The bodice is fitted and heart shaped (though much too thin for her to wear her bullet-proof vest), with jewel-lined straps that fall delicately off her shoulders. Meanwhile, the skirt flows out from a belted area near her waist, hanging in layers of translucent gossamer fabric that cover the opaque green material underneath.

One good thing about Metropolis is its abundance of fancy dress stores, which seem to be open at all hours. However, a not-so-good thing about those dress stores is their exorbitant city prices. This dress, in particular, cost several months' salary, and it wasn't even technically designer. Lois bought it on look alone.

But it _does_ look really good on her, so right now, she's thinking that the purchase was worth it.

Her hair, meanwhile, is the work of a salon down the street. The up-do style ties her hair in a knot at the side of her head, with deliberate strands hanging down in front of and around her ears.

It seems sort of wasteful, she thinks, to spend so much money on her appearance. But to be honest, she doesn't dress up beyond the business casual style very often, and it'll be nice to feel really, truly beautiful for one night. Besides, she bought the dress and paid for the haircut herself - it was her choice, made with her own money and hard work, not anyone else's. And that also has some worth in her eyes. This dress wasn't purchased by her father or Lex or _Clark _or any other man; it was something that she wanted personally, and she achieved the resources to buy it for herself. That she is proud of.

But there is a also a teeny, tiny part of herself who is looking her best because she wants Clark to be impressed - which is a little petty, she can admit. But at the same time… she is _human_ and _in love_ and wants him to see her as beautiful as she hopes she will look tonight. Is that really too much to ask?

As if on cue, someone knocks on the door of her apartment. Moving away from the mirror, Lois struggles to put on her strappy heels as she hops to the door. She is still placing them on her feet when she swings it open, revealing Clark standing patiently.

He is dressed plenty fancy, sporting a black tuxedo much nicer and more slimming than anything she has ever seen him in (except for his Superman costume). Overall, he looks rather debonair - astoundingly handsome, so long as one can look past those thick glasses of his.

Because he is hatless (she wondered if he would try to wear one anyway, but apparently he realized that bringing one would draw more attention than it would avoid), his hair is combed differently than he usually wears it as Superman. Normally, it is parted at the side of his head, with the strands flipped haphazardly away from his face. Now, they are all fully slicked backward, stuck close to his head, thus making his face shape seem slightly different. Lucky for him, this new style seems to work moderately well with the glasses at disguising his identity, so long as nobody looks too closely at him.

Meanwhile, Clark is gaping at her, his mouth very slightly ajar. She can't see where his eyes are staring, exactly, from the angle at which his glasses hide him, but the up-down movement of his head suggests that he is taking her in from head to toe.

"So…" Lois begins almost cockily. "Seems you found a _somewhat_ presentable tuxedo. You look good, Smallville."

"Thanks. And it looks like you kept your side of the bargain too," Clark mumbles, his eyes still trained on her. "No one's gonna notice my tux while I'm standing next to you."

And suddenly, there's that blush again, burning across her face like a brand. Honestly, Lois sometimes wonders whether _that_ is all love is - finding someone who always manages to make make you feel shy… but in a good sort of way that's almost indescribable.

But more likely… the way that Clark says those sort of things - with absolute sincerity, admiration, and (if she is not thinking wishfully) _affection_ \- is one of the many factors that made her fall in love with him.

She gulps. "Maybe we should go. I mean, I love to be fashionably late as much as the next girl… but I don't want to be the last one to show up."

"Y-You're right," he says, shaking his head and blinking in a manner reminiscent of someone trying to wake himself up. "Let's go flag down a cab."

* * *

Lois holds up her phone, revealing a picture of a somewhat stubby, bearded man with a rather severe face. Clark, who sits beside her in the backseat of the taxi, scrutinizes it closely.

"So that's Ambassador Lykos, right?" he asks, his expression rather disdainful. "Looks like a nice guy."

"He's got an even sweeter personality," Lois tells him sarcastically as she puts away her phone. "After I did the article on Qurac, the guy sent me about a million nasty letters about how I unfairly attacked '_Bialya's pride and livelihood_' or whatever. In any case, we should avoid interacting with him directly, if possible."

"Sounds good to me."

"And are you good on the rest of the plan?"

"Yup," Clark confirms. "We get there. Then you wait, possibly in vain, for Lex to ask you to dance, despite the fact that he is hosting a whole party and hopefully has other things to attend to-"

"He'll do it - trust me. I know him well enough to be able to predict _that much_ from him.

"Alright, fine. So then you're dancing with Lex for a while, leaving me to sit awkwardly at our table until the end of the first song-"

"You better remember that part, Smallville. Don't make me stay there longer than I have to."

"I know, I know - calm yourself, Lois. Anyway, after the first song I cut in not-so-nicely, stealing Lex's attention from you long enough for you to somehow _discreetly_ stick a listening device on him. After that, we dance to keep up appearances, sit back down, and watch Lex until he starts talking with Ambassador Lykos."

"Then I go into the ladies room," Lois finishes for him, "so that I can take the headphones out of my purse and eavesdrop-slash-record whatever they're saying."

"You sure you don't want me to do the 'listening in the bathroom' thing?" he asks.

"I'm sure."

"But everyone knows _you_ better than they know me. If you're gone too long, people may start to notice," Clark points out. "Meanwhile, I'm pretty good at being unnoticeable."

Lois curses to herself - his point is hard to deny. In truth, the only reason why she took that particular job is that she knows that he is Superman, which means that he may need leave suddenly to attend to a disaster or a major crime. Right now, she does not want to risk losing her chance at incriminating evidence on Lex in the event that something catastrophic _does_ come up, thus forcing him to run off at the drop of a hat.

"Look, _I'm_ the expert on Bialya here, not you. So I need to be able to immediately recognize whether the stuff we record is worth anything," she fabricates. To be honest, she knows it's a weak excuse, but it's all she has. Luckily, he seems to buy it (though with a somewhat reluctant expression) and ceases asking about it.

The cab squeals to a stop in front of the brilliantly-lit Halldorf Hotel. Luckily, they are stopped a little ways from the front door, which is where the red carpet has really been rolled out. Lois isn't exactly eager to encounter the heavy press coverage at this high-society charity gala. In fact, the thought of it worries her greatly. If someone films Clark, even by accident, there is always the possibility that some observant viewer will realize that he is Superman.

"Let's avoid the red carpet stroll. We'll just duck in from the sidewalk," Lois says, trying to beat Clark to the punch by paying for the cab, but he manages to outdo her, already pulling his credit card out of the scanner with a smirk.

Lois narrows her eyes in irritation. That time, super-speed _must_ have been involved. He has done this every time - paid for the taxi - probably because he knows it annoys her so much, rather than because he is trying to be gentlemanly. After all, Lois has _verified _that her salary is greater than his, so she'll be damned if she can't afford it. No, no, no - at this point, he just wants to drive her crazy… which is _dumb_, since he already does that without trying.

"Get out of the cab before I _throw _something at you, Clark."

"Alright, alright. I'm going… " he replies with a grin, pushing his way out of the taxi's door.

"I'm going to _burn_ your credit cards," she mumbles as she follows him out, smoothing out her dress as she does so. The taxi is soon speeding away, and they are left on the sidewalk.

He shrugs. "I'll just pay in cash then."

"Fine. Then I'll just pay you back - except always with _more _than the fare, so then you can feel bad about wasting my money."

He chuckles. "That's more of an incentive to keep doing it, actually."

"Not for you. You're so overly nice it's _disgusting._ You'd never accept any of it."

"True. I'd just return it when you're not looking."

"I'll hack your bank account and transfer it in against your will. Don't think I won't."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Clark tells her, outstretching his bent arm to her like a formal gentleman, as if he is waiting for her to slide her arm through it."But in the meantime, you should probably take us inside. Shall we?"

* * *

The first part of the gala was _incredibly_ boring. After the excessively fancy dinner in the ostentatiously decorated ballroom, Lex spent over an hour talking into a microphone about how _wonderful _Lexcorp is for hosting this generous party and yadayadayada; about how he is thankful for the gala attendees and their generous donations (even though Lexcorp is still _more _generous; Lex made that rather clear).

Lois tries not to be that person who cracks jokes during speeches, but ultimately, she always fails. The whole time, Clark was torn between advising her not to be rude and laughing silently at her whispered, snarky comments - most of them involving Lex's ego.

"You're corrupting me, I think," he informed her almost seriously during a round of applause, smiling apologetically at a snooty woman sitting beside him. She had evidently heard Lois's last joke.

"_Corrupting you?_" Lois replied in mock horror. "As in… in the process? God, I thought it'd be in the past tense by now. Guess I'll have to try harder."

"You're going to get me thrown out - I'm not even _supposed _to be here, you know " he then whispered back urgently, his voice rapidly lowering as the speeches began again.

When Lex personally thanked the U.N. ambassadors in attendance, Lois and Clark finally got a look at Bialya's dignitary - Andre Lykos. In person, Lykos is identical to how he appears in his picture - stout, bearded, and stern-featured. The only real difference is that he is not in the traditional clothes of his country. Instead, he sports a medalled sort of tuxedo.

Throughout Lex's address onstage, the man never stopped staring at Lex with an almost _desperately _angry expression - the look of someone in need of weapons, perhaps? Someone whose ego is against begging for them, but will do so out of absolute necessity?

Eventually, a few more speakers closed the presentation - most of them famous activists, surprisingly. Lois recognized them as the CEOs of the charities that _she _arranged for the gala, all those months ago. She tried not to think that Lex was allowing them to speak just for her - just to prove to her that he is still actively contributing to good works. If such was the case, Lois was rather unimpressed by the attempt.

She was probably wrong anyway about her suspicion that it's for her, anyway. It was a selfish thought.

Now, the presentation has finally ended, and Clark and Lois sit vigilantly at the table they were assigned. She knows that when she arrived and explained that Clark was her date, some attendants had to change their seating arrangements. So instead of eating at what Lois suspects was Lex's table, in the seat beside him, they are now residing at a table toward the far right of the hall.

Music begins to play from a jazz band onstage, and Lois and Clark glance at each other. If Lex _does _come to her, this would probably be the time.

She looks around, wondering where he could be. Only a few seconds ago, Lex was bantering with the current Secretary of Defense by his own table, shaking hands and laughing heartily with him in a way that could only be fake. Now, however, he has disappeared.

Then, almost on cue, someone places a hand on her shoulder. A short look at the whiteness of Clark's suddenly-clenched knuckles identifies the culprit as well as a stare at his face would, which she soon indulges in.

It's Lex, in all his bald, tuxedo-clad, smirking glory.

"Lois," he drawls, "You look wonderful."

_Compliment him,_ she orders herself somewhat against her own will. She needs him to believe that she is here for entirely innocuous reasons, so being rude, as she desires to be at the current moment, would certainly not enforce that belief.

Out loud, she replies: "You don't look too bad yourself, Lex."

His smirk slides off his face slightly for a moment, and she wonders if she was not convincing enough.

"You know," he continues, "when I realized that you came, I was surprised to hear that you switched tables because you had invited a guest." He turns toward Clark, beginning to scrutinize him with mild disdain.

Lois flashes back to the Lexcorp press conference, all those months ago, when Lex had examined Clark in a similar manner to determine whether he and Lois were involved - and ultimately failed to find anything of interest. Now, however, as Lex glances between Lois and Clark, he apparently discovers something that twists his features into both surprise and sourness. Something… if she is not wrong… looks remarkably like jealousy.

Lois wonders whether she is so obvious. Is it their proximity? She and Clark are sitting rather close together - but would that be enough for Lex to consider him competition?

Of course, he's not wrong. Though it's not much of a competition, in Lois's opinion.

Trying to prevent Lex from making any catastrophically accurate conclusions, she shoots him a radiant smile and quickly replies: "Just my co-worker and _friend_, Clark Kent."

Clark, taking charge of the situation despite his personal issues with Lex, extends his hand for Lex to shake. "Nice to meet you."

Lex pointedly ignores it, turning his back to Clark entirely to face Lois. "Would you like to dance, Lois? Of course… so long as your… _friend_…doesn't mind?"

She gives him the world's fakest giggle. "Of course."

And with that, he takes her hand and drags her toward the dance floor, which suddenly seems miles away from her seat next to Clark. As she departs with Lex, she glances back toward him, and sees that he is granting her a comforting smile. Not exactly an encouraging one… but certainly comforting.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: Sorry, I forgot that the dance scene is in the next chapter. This book is so long that even the writer gets confused about when things happen. Oops.**

**also did you catch that reference to the first day they met, at the end? **

**But I literally live for the Lois/Clark banter. Their relationship is pretty much characterized by non-stop teasing of one another, which is my favorite kind of romance. **

**I'm trying very hard to write the next book, but I always write more efficiently in the summer. I'm pretty busy right, and classes exhaust me, so by the time I do have free time, I'm usually too tired to write. BUT I AM TRYING. **

**Okay, I gotta go! Hope you enjoyed, and drop me a review if you can! I really appreciate it! **


	21. Chapter Twenty - Negotiations

_CHAPTER TWENTY - NEGOTIATIONS_

Normal songs, as far as Lois can tell from her own music-listening experience, hardly ever exceed five minutes in length. She hopes that such rules apply to jazz bands at charity galas, because she doesn't know how long she can continue holding Lex's ice-cold hand, or how long she can tolerate his grasp on her waist. It's already taking all of her willpower _not_ to smack him and run out of the Halldorf entirely.

But… she thinks… or perhaps hopes… that she can survive five minutes of this torture. So as she waltzes across the dance floor with Lex's hungry eyes on her face, she begins counting down the three hundred seconds. That way, if the song ends early, then Clark's arrival will come as a pleasant surprise. If the song lasts longer… well, she supposes she will cross that bridge when she gets there.

_300… 299… 298… Christ, his hands are freezing… 295 … 294… 293… I hate waltzing as is, but this makes it so much worse…_

"I love the way you look in that dress, by the way," Lex compliments her on the 100th second. He sounds apparently sincere, but there is something sinister under his tone. Something that suggests that he would enjoy seeing her out of that dress even more.

Plus, she didn't dress this way for _him._ She dressed this way for herself, mostly because she liked the gown, and more importantly, she loved her the fact that she is successful enough to attend to her own desires and wants. And even if she did possess a small, petty hope to seem beautiful for Clark's sake, it would never overwhelm her desire to do or wear what she wanted.

Plus, shouldn't Lex always _love_ the way she looks, dress or not? Lois is no expert on romance, but she is relatively certain that her damn outfit shouldn't affect how he feels for her.

The most upsetting thing is the absolute lack of human affection in his voice. He speaks to her like he is complimenting a fancy car, or a good suit - with obvious interest and possessiveness, but without legitimate hopes to make her feel good about herself.

Because Lois cannot reprimand him, given her current situation, she instead indulges in a nervous sort of laugh to release her tension. "It better. The damn thing cost an arm and a leg."

_160… 159… 158… 157… 156… 155… _

Lex continues to gaze at her with that unsettling, greedy look as they turn dizzyingly to the jazz music. "Have you thought about what I said?"

_Kill time_, she orders herself. If she dismisses him too early, he will sit down before she can plant the listening device, and Lois will miss her chance. So she stalls.

"About what?" she thus asks obliviously, returning his stare in earnest.

"About you and me, of course."

_130… 129 … 128 … 127… 126… 125… _

Lois clears her throat and focuses on the floor. "I… uh… definitely did some thinking."

"And have you made a decision?" Lex inquires almost impatiently, forcefully spinning her around to keep up with the tempo of the waltz.

_113… 112… 111… 110… _

She pointedly does not answer, hoping to stall for a just a few moments longer.

Lex, however, takes her pause as indecision, so he sighs with irritation. "It's not your co-worker, is it? Because honestly, Lois… you could do a million times better than that nebbish."

Lois suppresses the necessity to both scoff and explode with rage toward Lex. He knows nothing about Clark, and in truth, nothing about her. Maybe he understands enough about her personality to recognize the similarities they both share, but other than that, his understanding of how she _thinks_ and _feels_ is as superficial as her father's.

"He's _not_ a nebbish," she asserts. "He's my friend. So watch your damn mouth."

Lex sets his own jaw. "Fine. I apologize. But I'm still awaiting your answer."

Lois exhales. "You want to know if we still have a chance, right? That's your issue?"

"Obviously."

_95… 94… 93… 92… 91… 90… 89_

At this point, she doesn't know what to do. If she rejects him, he might not object to Clark interrupting the dance, meaning that he might leave so rapidly that she will be unable to place the listening device on him. But if she says yes… that will make matters even worse. She is in love with _Clark_, not Lex, and she hates deceiving people. Even people like Lex.

78… 77… 76… 75… 74… 73… 72… 71

She clears her throat. "I'm… in love with someone else. It's very confusing."

It's not a lie, of course. She _is _in love with someone else, and it _is _confusing - mostly because he is an alien being that refuses to tell her the truth, despite how much he appears to care about her.

Lex's brows knit together. "Confusing? What's there to be confused about? I'm _here_. _I _want you. Whoever you have feelings for, they are missing their chance, aren't they?"

Though she is beyond considering Lex in any way, shape, or form, his words about the "other man" do ring somewhat true. Despite how she feels about Clark, and how she suspects he feels about her, he still has failed to tell her the truth, or make any sort of legitimate attempt to bring their relationship to a phase beyond friendship. Does that mean that Lois is wrong? That he really doesn't care about her that way? Should she bother pining for him the way she does? There are other men (excluding Lex, of course).

As she dances with Lex, thinking in silence, she wonders whether it would be worth her time to pursue new guys, just for the hell of it.

But then again… something about Clark just feels _right. _More right than any other relationship that she has engaged in - and they haven't even _kissed_.

"Mind if I cut in?" someone asks, snapping Lois out of her reverie. She realizes that everyone around her is clapping, and the music is now inaudible, meaning that the song must have ended.

She turns her head to the side, thus seeing Clark, who is looking pointedly at her. Lex, meanwhile, turns at the exact moment she does, so Clark's eyes are forced to flit away. Now, they proceed to return Lex's cold glare from under his thick glasses. His arms, which are tucked behind his back, seem tense.

Meanwhile, Lois feels Lex's grip on her hand and waist tighten as he responds, "Yes. I do very much _mind_."

This is her chance, Lois realizes, despite her intense urge to shudder. Earlier, she clipped the listening device onto her dress for easy access. This now proves extremely useful, since she is able to remove her hand from Lex's shoulder and uses it to pretend to fix the creases in her gown. In reality, however, she discreetly plucks the device from her skirt while Lex remains focused on Clark. By replacing her hand on Lex's shoulder, she easily plants the device underneath his collar. He fails to notice, especially with the level of intense hatred he is directing at Clark.

"I wasn't asking _you_ to dance, Mr. Luthor. I was asking Lois. It's up to her," Clark counters, staring toward Lois with raised eyebrows that not only ask his original question, but inquire whether she completed her task.

In response, Lois nods slightly at Clark and disentangles herself from Lex.

"I want to dance with him, Lex," she says quietly after clearing her throat. "I want to dance with Clark. So if you'll excuse us."

Lex blinks, his expression hardening and fists clenching. Lois thinks she hears him chuckle slightly - bitterly, even - before he replies, "As you wish, Lois."

He backs a full foot away from her, then turns on his heels so he can literally push past Clark, heading back toward his seat at the Lexcorp reserved table. His agitation and resentment are palpable in the air long after he has left.

But Lois is soon forgetting about Lex, because Clark is moving toward her, placing his warm hand almost hesitantly on her waist, and grasping her hand in his own. Their bodies are now inches apart, spinning slowly to the new song, which is much slower and more tranquil.

She soon finds herself laughing nervously, and from this close proximity, she can clearly see his bright blue eyes focused on hers.

"What's so funny?" Clark asks quietly by her ear.

"Nothing," Lois replies, gulping. "I'm just waiting for my skin to stop crawling."

He looks somewhat offended. "Well, we only have to dance for a little while-"

She chuckles. "You're _not_ the reason, Smallville. My skin's crawling because of Lex."

"Oh," he says, relaxing visibly as his voice takes on a more joking tone. "Well, I thought you were naturally averse to anything from Kansas, so I figured… "

He is so close to her that she can literally _smell _him. His scent is now reminiscent of soap, rather than the crisp, somewhat ocean-like odor that he had as Superman.

"Personally, I don't like slow dancing very much," he adds offhandedly as they continue swaying. "Haven't done it since my senior prom."

Lois finds the thought of him in _high school_ somewhat ridiculous. After all, he is an alien, but somehow he experienced a normal childhood - maybe one that was _more_ normal than her own, since she sometimes was whisked away to military bases thanks to her father.

She begins to wonder - did he go to parties? Play sports? Write for his school newspaper? She knows he must have been pretty successful in his studies, since Metropolis University - his alma mater - is a pretty elite school.

He talked about going to prom, so he obviously had _that _typical high school experience. Did he go with his ex-girlfriend? What was her name… hmm… Lana?

An odd feeling of longing and jealousy courses through her veins - something that she has never felt before. She needs to get a _grip_. Lois wouldn't trade who she is for anything - anyone - in the world. Why would she want to be like Lana, a girl she has never met? She _doesn't_.

It'd just be nice if the one guy she cares about _reciprocated_, is all.

Clark clears his throat. "Y'know, you're being uncharacteristically quiet. Something wrong? Or is my dancing _that _bad?"

"Sorry," she apologizes quietly. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

_About you_, she thinks almost bitterly, because if Lex could see her feelings written so plainly on her face, shouldn't Clark be able to do the same?

The warmth of his hands on her, even over her dress, is incredibly distracting. It's been awhile since she has been this close to him - close enough to simply kiss his perfect lips, just by moving onto her tip toes to achieve a sufficient height…

But then… then she realizes that he is staring at her lips just as she is staring at his, and Lois wonders whether his current thoughts are similar to her own.

But then the song ends, and applause cuts through their daze. Thus, they both look away, their gazes finding the floor as their faces begin to heat up.

"We should… we should sit," Lois manages, fighting her inexplicably dry throat. "That way we can watch Lex."

He nods fiercely. "You're right. Let's go."

* * *

"This is the longest… party… _ever," _Lois complains from her designated table with Clark. Her elbows rest against the tabletop, and she leans her cheeks lazily against her palms. It's not the classiest pose, she knows, but she's tired and uncomfortable, so people will have to _deal. _

Clark is twiddling his thumbs beside her, his eyes trained on Lex, who remains seated at the table. "What are the chances that we were wrong, and that we won't get any information tonight? It's been _hours_, and Lykos hasn't even approached him."

Lois groans. "Do you know how long I've been wearing this heels?"

"You always wear heels. I thought they didn't bother you."

"The shoes themselves do not. Their straps, on the other hand, absolutely do. They're cutting into my flesh."

"Did you bring… I don't know… flip flops or something?"

"Clark, this isn't a school dance, if you haven't noticed. This is a high-society charity gala. You don't just leave your shoes at the side of the room and put on bunny slippers."

"If you haven't noticed, I don't spend a lot of time at 'high society charity galas' or whatever, so cut me some slack."

"God, Smallville… you're such a nerd."

"You're just saying that because of the glasses."

Lois glances sideways at him, her expression pointed. She really shouldn't try to back him into any corners tonight, but she can't help it as she says: "Well… in that case… maybe you should take them off for once. Unless you're hiding some-"

Clark sits up suddenly, his wide grin disappearing as his eyes focus on Lex's table. Lois follows his gaze, thus sees Ambassador Lykos, in his mustached glory, whispering urgently in Lex's ear. Whatever he is saying, it must not be particularly good news, because Lex seems rather irritated.

"Show time," Clark whispers to Lois, watching as a seemingly reluctant Lex stands up and exits the room, the ambassador trailing behind him. Clark takes the listening earpiece out of his pocket and discreetly hands it to her.

Lois stands up, straightening her skirt. "Time to go to the bathroom," she announces loudly, causing their fellow tablemates to shoot her dirty looks. "Bodily functions and all that. Adios."

She waves exaggeratedly and marches toward the tiny hallway that extends from the ballroom - where she knows that the bathrooms are located.

* * *

One thing Lois had not anticipated, when buying a fancy dress, is how long she would be seated on top of a toilet seat. Before, she didn't regret the purchase in the least… but now… well, there is _some_ regret forming.

Not that the Halldorf doesn't have a nice bathroom. In fact, it's one of the fanciest bathrooms she has ever been in. But germs are germs, and she would prefer to avoid bathing her expensive dress in them by sitting where people deposit their feces.

Nonetheless, she sits down and sticks the earpiece in her ear. Immediately, she is greeted by sounds - their point of origin most likely being a private conference room somewhere in the hotel.

At first she only catches bits and pieces of the initial conversation, but overall the message is already clear from the Ambassador - he is unhappy, and he wants Lex to do something about it.

"_I do not want to negotiate this,_" Lex responds coolly, a hint of disinterest evident in his voice.

The Ambassador makes a groaning sound. "_We had a deal. There is nothing to negotiate. You must make good on your promises._"

"_You already violated the terms of our deal."_

"_Bah! That is a lie! The work of individuals does not reflect-"_

"_The CRIMES of individuals under your employ, Ambassador - not work. I told you to leave Qurac alone, and you did not listen. Now my organization is under scrutiny-"_

"_From that woman you were dancing with!"_

With a jolt, Lois realizes that they are talking about _her. _Has she really made Lex's life so difficult that he cannot complete whatever illicit deal the ambassador is proposing? Or does he simply not want to? And has he really been protecting Qurac the whole time?

She recalls their discussion in the hospital, when Lex told her that everything he does is for "the greater good," no matter how immoral. Are his currents words proof of that?

"_That woman I was dancing with is just doing her job,_" Lex replies. "_You and I have both become too sloppy to continue this operation. Buy from someone else for all I care."_

"_The Queen will not be pleased. Not at all," _Ambassador Lykos snarls.

She hears Lex scoff. "_The Queen of Bialya is never pleased. You and I both know that. Perhaps… when interest wanes and you curb your belligerence… we can reopen discussion._"

"_Qurac is our enemy. We will not-"_

Suddenly, the earpiece goes dead, and a sound that Lois reverberates back to her spot in the bathroom. It chills her to the marrow, and she jumps to her feet.

There are gunshots. Rapid ones. Machine gunshots.

Screams are then filling the air, along with the sounds of shattering glasses. It sounds like it is coming from closer to Lois than it did at Lex's location - like it is coming from the ballroom.

She pushes her way out of the bathroom, looking around to see if anyone else is in the tiled area with her. Evidently, she is alone, while the rest of the guests are in danger outside.

The gunshots have ended - no more ring through the air. She wonders what happened, or why they have stopped, but fear grips her as she considers venturing outwards to discover the answers. Obviously, she has been shot before - she has the scar to prove it, just under the strap of her dress. Does she really want to risk it again?

No, she will make sure to call for help first, so that this is not a repeat of her last experience. Her cell phone is with her, so she immediately calls 911, which should allow her to report what she is hearing.

But her phone isn't working properly. Frustrated, she smacks it, trying to force some life into it, but a signal is still somehow unattainable.

What can she do now? What can she _do_?

She takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to tremble, along with her inexplicable impulse to smoke the cigarettes that she has almost quit entirely. _Think_, she tells herself. _What are your options?_

She knows Clark is out there, which means that he can stop… whatever this is… after a quick change into his costume. And if that's the case, she should get the story. She _has to_ get the story.

Another deep breath marks her cautious exit of the bathroom. Before she left, she took off her heels to maintain soundlessness, and they now are held in her hand. The door, thankfully, only furthers this end, since it does not creak.

Lois creeps along the tiny, marble hallway until she can view enough of the ballroom to see and hear what is going on. As she remains partially concealed behind a wall, she gazes out toward the stage where the jazz band used to play. Now, an entirely different sort of group is standing there, with other members milling about the dance floor, guns in their arms. They are men in black ski masks, with slits cut out for their mouths and eyes.

"-are guards at all the exits, and I wouldn't bother using your cell phones," one of them says into the microphone, his accent sounding rather British. "My boys and I are using a military-grade jammer. Every phone within a mile has been knocked out. So by the time all you rich-kids get to call your masseuses, we'll be gone with your charity checks. So if you'd all be kind enough to hand them over, along with your jewelry and valuables, of course-"

So that is why both Lois's phone and earpiece went dead. Someone is doing a high-scale robbery at Lex's charity gala, and they did the smart thing - cut the communications. The police probably won't be here for a while, and until then, the guests are at the mercy of these criminals.

Unless Clark arrives. But he has yet to do so

Another man in a mask begins talking from the dance floor, circling the partygoers, which are gathered in a little scared crowd at the center of the room.

"Straigh' lines now," he yells, aiming his gun menacingly at the people. "Hand over ya stuff one by one! Or else the _next _gunshots won't be to get your attention."

The partygoers murmur fearfully before scrambling to follow their orders, unclasping jewelry and opening wallets as they move into a line.

Just as the robbers are about to take one woman's necklace, a firm voice interrupts, "There will be no need for that, everyone."

Lois glances upwards to see Superman hovering intimidatingly near the chandelier at the ceiling, his arms crossed in a patronizing way, and his gaze flaring slightly red as he stares at the robbers. He is soon descending toward the stage, landing directly in front of the robber at the microphone.

_Finally_, Lois thinks, glad that she decided to bring Clark along.

"I suggest you let these people go, otherwise I will force you to do so," Superman continues as everyone focuses on him with a mixture of fear, relief, and confusion. "No matter what, I assure you that you will be apprehended. Just consider whether you want to add 'attempted murder' to the _very long_ list of charges you will receive tonight."

The robber on stage seems stunned for a moment, but shakes his head and regains composure.

"Alright, Superman, I get it. Let's negotiate the terms of our arrest," the accented man concedes, his voice marked by a sort of cockiness that Lois finds unsettling. Why is he accepting defeat so easily?

Superman is obviously confused as well, because he raises an eyebrow and takes a questioning tone. "I'm… glad… you're seeing sense?"

The robber on stage grins as he shoves his gun into Superman's arms. "Here's my weapon, okay, Supes? I've got one more in my pocket that I wanna make sure you take…"

Then the man has something in his hand - something rocklike, glowing, and green. He then extends it toward Superman, almost as if he is asking him to take it.

Lois doesn't think it looks particularly dangerous - it has no triggers or traits of a bomb. Superman should be able to remove it without a problem.

But for some reason, he is soon covering his face and staggering backwards, like the rock is hurting him. Lois doesn't know what to think or do.

"Wuh… What izzat?" he asks, his voice oddly slurred as he continues to move away, but the masked man continues to move toward him, inching him toward the edge of the stage. A cruel grin is twisting his features still.

"Don't know, exactly," the man says arrogantly, casually tossing the rock up and down as he pushes forward. "Somebody told me that this stuff can turn the 'Man of Steel' into the 'Man of Tissue Paper,' so I figured I'd give it a try, y'know?"

Eventually, Clark cannot backtrack anymore, and Lois gasps as he topples off the stage, his body limp.

The masked man jumps down, landing agilely on his feet next to Superman's body. He leans down to speak to him, his voice nearly _bursting _with a sick pride. "Did you really think I'd try a crime _this big_ without preparing for you, Superman? Now I'm gonna get double the cash - these fat-cats' checks, and the money on your head."

He then drops the green rock, whatever it is, right near the top of Superman's head. Clark groans, sweat visible on his skin, before he appears to go fully unconscious.

"I just took down Superman," the masked man snarls, turning to the crowd of people. "I suggest you make your payments quick, everyone."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: DANCING SCENES ARE MY FAVORITES LALALALALALALALA. **

**Oh yeah. That was a cliff-hanger. So...ahem...DUN DUN DUN.**

***sarcasm* I wonder what that green rock could be!**

**There's still 10 chapters (I think) and an epilogue left. Jeez. When I called this slow-burn, I really meant it. **

**Anyway, that's all for today, folks! Please review! :) Hope you enjoyed! I'm sorry if I cause any agony during the wait for the next chapter! **


	22. Chapter Twenty-One - Green

_CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - GREEN_

At the moment, Lois can only stare numbly at Clark's feebly breathing form, which rests on the floor at the foot of the stage. The green rock that has completely de-powered him remains close to his forehead, glowing ominously.

Meanwhile, the hopeless partygoers are depositing their belongings into sacs held by the robbers. They move forward in lines, their heads downcast as they comply with the men's humiliating demands. As far as they all know, no one is coming to help them - not the police, not even Superman.

Lex is not among the crowd - he is probably still in the conference room that he was sharing with Ambassador Lykos of Bialya. Lois, at the current moment, is near the bathrooms, out of sight, trying to figure out her next move.

She can't let Clark die - and she can't let these absolute _assholes_ get away. There has to be something she can do.

Frantic, she spins around, looking for something - _anything _\- to help her. Nothing presents itself. There is a bouquet sitting on a table nearby, but that's about it-

Hold on. There's something behind the flowers…something red and black. Slowly, she approaches it, finally seeing that it is the switch for a fire-alarm.

Lois glances at Superman from her current location, which is diagonal from where he lies. The rock, as far as she can tell, is not very large - barely larger than someone's wallet. Its shape is irregular, causing it to balance oddly on the floor. The green light it gives off - could it emit rays specifically designed to incapacitate Superman? It didn't have any effects until the masked man took it out of his pocket… maybe he has something that shields the rays?

But even if he did, she can't get to that. They're armed… she's not. And right now, she can only desperately wish she wore her bulletproof vest, for the lack of protection she has right now…

Thinking hard, an idea begins to form.

Maybe… maybe if she can move the rock far enough away… slide it out of close proximity…

Christ, it's a flawed plan for sure, but she doesn't have much of a choice.

Thus, Lois reaches behind the bouquet of flowers and pulls the fire alarm down. Immediately, sirens blare and sprinklers spray down upon her, ruining her dress.

A glance toward the ballroom alerts her that the partygoers are, for lack of a better word, _freaking out_. As if being robbed wasn't bad enough, now these stuffy old bats are getting _wet_, God forbid. One woman is shrieking ceaselessly - more than she ever did when held at gunpoint. Lois cannot help rolling her eyes.

But then she sees Clark, still sprawled on the dance floor. The water doesn't wake him in the least, and she begins to fear that the rock really is killing him.

The robbers, meanwhile, are spinning around in the spray, trying to figure out who pulled the alarm. They seem to be searching for her, prepared to shoot, before a more pressing matter emerges.

"Shit!" one yells suddenly with a look of horror. He begins diving into the sacs. "The checks! They're _paper_!"

The robbers all look at each other simultaneously, proceeding to copy him in the quest to rescue the paper checks that they stole from the charity event. Only a few remain unoccupied, with their guns raised, but even then… they watch their accomplices distractedly, like they too are worried about their score.

In their distraction, Lois moves slightly out of her hiding spot. She focuses on Superman, and the green rock placed so close to him - the rock that might kill him at any second. The floor he lies on is slick… slick enough for this to work, though the chances of it really succeeding are terribly minute.

She raises one of her shoes, aiming it directly at the rock. Nervous, she takes a deep breath.

God, she has always been bad at Basketball and… pretty much all sports that involve throwing projectiles. But this… this is about saving _lives_… and she cannot screw up.

Then, as hard as she can, Lois throws the shoe along the floor, causing it to slide against the wet tiles as it travels. She holds her breath, hoping that it will meet its mark - the green rock - thus knocking it out of the way.

But it slides slightly off-course, instead hitting Superman _in the face _and failing to even move the rock_._ Luckily, he does not stir… but then again… maybe that's an indication of just how much he has been hurt by that thing.

The robbers did not see anything. They are focused on the partygoers at the center of the floor and the sacs of valuables. She might get one more chance… with the other shoe.

Biting her lip in concentration, Lois raises it like a bowling ball. Closed eyes and another deep exhale precede her prayers, which she indulges in for this particular moment. For once, can't she just have _a little luck_? Or did her supply of luck run out with her survival in Qurac? She hopes not.

Then, with as much concentration and strength as she can muster, she tosses the shoe. It slides and slides along the floor, spinning wildly, approaching the rock. The whole thing seems to occur in slow motion to Lois, making her suffer with anticipation and apprehension, before it finally reaches its target and _hits it_!

The rock's irregular shape sends it flying along the wet floor, all the way to the far wall. It smacks into it with a bang, and the robbers all look up, alerted to the commotion.

"What the hell?" one of them says, trying to identify the source of the sound.

Superman begins to stir slightly, woken by the still-falling water.

_C'mon, c'mon, c'mon_, she urges him silently. _Get up, Clark_.

But now one of the robbers - the one that originally incapacitated him - is approaching him, looking at him curiously.

"Hey!" he yells, standing right next to his body. "Where'd the rock g-"

Suddenly, the man is grabbed by the ankle and thrown across the room, into one of his accomplices. They both topple to the ground, unconscious.

Superman staggers to his feet, a sheen of sweat still visible on his brow. The glow from his eyes seems weaker than usual, but it is nonetheless strong enough to heat all of the guns to an unbearable temperature for their holders. Thus, they drop to the floor as the men look on, stunned.

Lois resists the urge to cheer.

"It's over," he pants as he leans on the stage for support. "The fire alarm was connected to a landline - untouched by your jammer. Law-enforcement should be here any minute."

"No way!" one of the men yells. He pulls a handgun out of his pocket and points it directly at Clark's forehead. "Forget the merchandise. You're still weak - which means that I can still collect the bounty on your head."

Superman does not even flinch. "Weak, maybe. But I'm still faster than you."

Before anyone realizes, the gun is out of the man's hand and crushed in Superman's. He drops it on the floor with all the others, while the man just throws up his arms, having no other options left.

"Anyone else want to try anything?" Superman asks impatiently to the rest of the robbers, standing a bit taller, though with a shade of sickness to his skin. "No? Then I suggest you gentlemen get in a straight line and prepare for the police to arrive."

A collective sigh of relief is elicited from the partygoers as the men line up, and Superman gathers their weapons in a pile. He tells them it should be only minutes before law-enforcement comes.

Wordlessly and determinedly, Lois finally moves out of her hiding spot, moving toward the robber that was thrown across the room.

"Lo-I mean, Ms. Lane?" she hears Superman ask in a startled voice as she begins to sift through the man's pockets. "What are you doing?"

Finally, she finds a heavy, black box and pulls it out. She recognizes the material - lead. The one metal that is able to block almost all forms of radiation… including whatever this rock emits.

Without responding to Superman quite yet, she goes to that far wall where the green rock slid. The light it gives off seems rather dangerous, so she picks it up with the skirt of her dress. It almost blends in, she realizes with limited amusement, since the dress and the rock are similar colors.

Carefully, she deposits the rock inside the case and stands, turning back to Superman.

"Ms. Lane?" he repeats with concern. "What's wrong?"

She quickly marches toward him and presses the case into his hand, trying to ignore the stares of the high-society snobs that are watching them with interest - probably because they think Superman and Lois Lane are dating… which they are _not_. But what she has to say is quite urgent, and she won't let their attention dissuade her.

"I don't know what this is, but you need to get it _out of here_ and figure it out. You know who to bring it to. I'll meet you there tomorrow," she whispers urgently. "Do _not_ give it to the police, do you hear me?"

He nods briefly, his expression serious. His skin's sickly pallor is rapidly fading, now that the rock is back in its protective case. She wonders why the radiation affected him alone, if it is so deadly.

But then firemen and police officers alike are bursting through the door, and she knows they will have to wait to discuss it. For now, all he can say is, "Thank you."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: I know this is a shorter chapter than usual! Sorry! I promise that the next chapter is one of the longest in the book, so stay strong, my dear readers!**

**But anyway... Lois Lane saves Superman with a pair of high-heeled shoes. GET ON HER LEVEL. **

**I hope some people are forming predictions or theories about some of the mysteries in the story. There are lots to address. The only one that will not be resolved in this book involves Kari Pope - hopefully, you'll find out her deal in book two. So just keep her in the back of your mind. **

**There's a part of me... a silly, silly part... that desperately wants to include Krypto the Superdog at some point in this series. But I cannot figure out how to integrate him without making the circumstances utterly ridiculous. *sigh***

**Once again, sorry for the short chapter! I hope you enjoyed what little there was, and I'll see you next week!**


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two - Danger

_CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - DANGER_

"What is it?" Superman asks from the far side of Professor Hamilton's lab as he shields his eyes from the light of the green rock. Currently, Emil is examining and scanning it with some sort of device.

Emil shakes his head with confusion. "I don't know. It's no element that I have ever seen before. And this radiation… it's not something I'm familiar with."

Everyone in the room is enclosed in protective suits, in case the rock is dangerous to more than Superman's physiology. To Lois, the outfit is not only incredibly hot and uncomfortable, but it also impairs her ability to see. But Superman insisted that she and Emil wear them, and they obliged.

"We know it can hurt him. But is it dangerous to humans?" she asks with moderate eagerness, hoping that the answer is _no _so that she can take off the suit. It's bad enough she still has to wear the bulletproof vest, which is uncomfortable by itself. The hazmat suit is just the icing on the cake.

Emil gazes into a nearby microscope. "I've placed human cell samples near it, and there doesn't seem to be any negative effects."

"So we can ditch the suits?"

"I see no reason why not."

"I do," Superman disagrees. "What about the long term? How do you know it doesn't cause some sort of cancer in a few years?"

"I don't think that's too much of an issue. I'd recognize something like that," Emil says.

"Are you positive? Scientifically-"

"Superman, if you don't mind, _I _am the scientific expert around here. Therefore, I am confident in my decision."

Immediately, Lois and Emil begin ripping off the hazmat suits, though Superman grumbles in irritation. He must keep his on - for good reason, of course. The suits are lined with lead on the outside, so it allows him to remain unaffected by the rock.

Now in his normal lab coat, the professor clears his throat. "As far as I can tell, this material shares a similar chemical makeup with you, Superman. Perhaps you also share a point of origin, which is why the rock is so deadly to you."

"It's from Krypton?" Superman wonders, the irritation disappearing from his face in favor of surprise and hopefulness.

The Professor shakes his head and puts the rock back in its protective case. "More likely… it's a _piece_ of Krypton. A remnant of the planet, irradiated by the destruction of the system. How it came to be here, I'm utterly unaware. But given the evidence, this is the only conclusion I can make."

Superman rubs his chin, seeming pensive and worried. "But… how did they know? And where did they find it?"

Of course, _that_ is the million dollar question. Lois knows it's beyond common crooks to obtain meteorites and somehow _know_ that they are harmful to Superman. The chances of that… are astronomical. So who is whispering in their ears? And who is providing them with monetary incentive to _attack_ the Man of Steel?

She can only think of one person, but Clark - Superman - identifies him before she can.

"It's Lex, isn't it?" he says, his voice dark. "He has the resources. The intelligence. The money. He's really out to get me, isn't he?"

A part of Lois strongly wants to agree with him… to condemn Lex as easily as she would snap her fingers… but pieces aren't fitting together as nicely as she would like.

"Hold on, hold on - let's think this through," she tells him. "I mean… why would Lex allow people to crash his own charity gala? It's not like him to bruise his _own _ego. "

The professor answers quickly, "Lex is a genius - he lives to plant complex doubts in people's minds. So he does something so out of character or unlikely that no one suspects him. I'll give it to him - it's a chillingly effective method."

"Exactly," Superman agrees. "The person behind the rock is the same person behind the advanced weapons. And since I'm almost _positive_ that Lex invented those guns, I can't really see how it could be someone else who discovered it. Besides… he wasn't in the room at the time… or maybe he just didn't know what the plans of his employees were."

Both men make sense, of course - enough to convince almost anyone of their rationale. But something in Lois's gut is telling her to think otherwise.

"I don't know…"

Superman looks somewhat offended for a moment, demanding: "Are you actually _defending _him? After everything?"

No. _No. _Lois still trusts Lex half as far as she can throw him, and blames him for a lot of terrible things, but after recording his talks with the Ambassador of Bialya… well, it seems like he is trying to _avoid _illicit activities. The stuff he said isn't even enough to get a decent once-over at a police station, leaving them just as empty-handed on the Lex story as before.

But her feelings toward him have not changed. Not in the least. And blaming Lex… despite her gut feeling… seems easy and logical.

"You're probably right," Lois concedes finally. "I was just playing devil's advocate."

"In any case, I will be locking this meteorite - Kryptonite, perhaps - away for safekeeping. I assure you, it will remain untouched by anyone but myself from now on," the Professor informs them, leaving the room with the newly-christened Kryptonite in hand, protectively cased.

* * *

With the proliferation of those fancy weapons, the discovery of kryptonite, and the relatively distracting realization that she is in love with Clark, Lois nearly forgets about the fact that the Bay Demons are itching for revenge against her.

Unfortunately… they don't.

A few days later, on the coast of St. Martin's Island (a borough of Metropolis), Lois is covering a story about a fishing boat that went missing a week earlier - the _S.S. Lemaris_. The case is mysterious enough - the boat sets out with a full crew, heading for some better fishing spots out at sea, and now, it still has yet to return. The case would be _more mysterious_ if it wasn't so obvious that the boat shouldn't have left during such a volatile, winter month, when ice storms out at sea are so prevalent. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened to the boat.

She has been interviewing the loved ones of the crewmembers, their fellow fishermen, and other important sources since noon, which is when she set out from the Daily Planet. Clark, meanwhile, was separately assigned to interview the city's public works department, so she hasn't seen him since the morning.

Now that it is night, she realizes that it is incredibly dark and cold outside, and she figures it's about time that she heads back home. The island is usually pretty non-threatening, even at night, since it is one of the more upscale parts of the city. Even so, she is exhausted, and can't wait to grab some nightmare-less sleep - which is thankfully the only kind she has been having lately.

She moves away from the docks, ducking through an alley toward a crowded road where she can hopefully hail a taxi. If she can't get one, then it is one _long, cold _walk over the bridge back to New Troy, where her apartment is located.

As Lois trudges along, she hears an odd shuffle behind her, and stops in her tracks. A glance behind her reveals nothing but an empty alley, so she pushes forward.

But then there is a series of odd sounds from where she just looked - a gunshot, the whistle of a speeding bullet, the _whoosh_ of something else moving, and a metallic clatter of a bullet hitting the pavement.

Panicked, she spins around and feels frantically around her bullet-proof vest, wondering if she has been shot and simply did not feel it.

In front of her stands Superman, his back to her. The bullet that must have been fired at her is crumpled at his feet. He glances backwards at her, worry obvious in his blue eyes.

"What the hell was that?" she demands

"That was a sniper - a member of the Bay Demons," he tells her unhappily. "They've been following you for a while, waiting for an opportunity to kill you."

"Kill me?" she repeats. "You mean-"

"They're out for revenge. Trying to make an example out of you. Hold on-"

He disappears for a moment, but then returns, his expression steely. "He's just been delivered to police custody. You shouldn't have to worry about him now."

"Jesus… er… thanks," she breathes, rubbing feeling back into her arms. "It's a good thing you knew… somehow…"

"Good hearing."

"Maybe, but there's a _lot_ of gunshots in this city besides that one."

He sighs. "After what happened with that gang - what I _heard_ about, I mean - I thought it best to keep an eye and ear open for you."

"Oh…" she flounders. "Um… Superman… how long is a 'while' when it comes to the time they've been following me?"

He hesitates before answering: "A week."

A _week_. Between his job and his protection of the city, he has somehow made time to apprehend gang members trying to assassinate her - completely without her knowledge - for an entire _week_.

"It's been going on for that long?" Lois demands, somewhat angered. "And you didn't tell me?"

And yes, she's irritated by this, despite the fact that he probably just went through a lot of trouble, saving her life like that when he was probably still in the middle of an interview for Perry. But he's lying to her again - he pretended that everything was alright as Clark even though he _knew_ that her life was in complete and utter danger.

He immediately becomes apologetic. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to continue your life as normal. And despite the fact that she ended the detail on your apartment, the police captain has been aiding me-"

He's talking in that strange, commanding tone he takes as Superman, when he's conversing with police officers or civilians.

She feels like her meetings with Superman have become strained lately, like he is all too aware that she has become close to both alter egos. In fact, she suspects that now that he has become so noticeable as Clark Kent, he feels that he has to make Superman more aloof to keep her from forming suspicions or connections. It makes her feel oddly cold inside.

"So Maggie's been helping you, huh? But you couldn't tell _me _that people were trying to kill me?"

"I didn't want you to worry. Look at how much danger you've already been in, because of-"

"Because of _you_? Listen, pal, I've been doing dangerous things since _before _you put on the cape, so spare me that schtick," she rejoins.

"That's not what I meant," he disagrees defensively, his tone finally melting into something more familiarly _Clark_. "Listen… I just… I figured you had enough to worry about. You seemed really happy lately, and I didn't want to ruin that."

Lois groans.

His nostrils flare a bit. "Would you have preferred for me to _not _save you?"

"I would have _preferred_," she grumbles, "for you to be _honest_, for Christ's sake."

That shuts him up completely, snapping his mouth shut. His expression is now reminiscent of that of someone who has been recently slapped in the face, and Lois can't help but take some satisfaction in it. Maybe he's finally starting to understand how _frustrated_ she is. Why can't he just tell her the truth?

"I'm… I'm sorry," he finally says in a voice so marked by guilt that he _must_ be apologizing for more than the Bay Demons thing. "I really am."

"Whatever," Lois mumbles dismissively, her hopes deflated. "Forget it. Just… can I have a ride home, please? I'm exhausted."

* * *

The next few days seemed pretty quiet. Quiet until someone put a bomb in the Daily Planet's elevator, that is.

It started like any normal day, of course. Lois and Clark simply headed into the building, ready to board the elevator to the top floor. At the last second, however, as she and about a million other people were about to step onto it, Clark grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Hold on," he said in a tense, nervous voice. "Do you smell smoke?"

A glance inside revealed that a small fire had broken out in the center of the elevator's carpet. No one went inside, leaving everyone staring at those suddenly present flames in disbelief. Lois was equally stunned and confused.

"I'll go get a fire extinguisher," Clark then offered quickly as he began to run off, disappearing from sight.

At the time, Lois just thought that he was making excuses so he could go deal with something as Superman in the city, thus using a heat vision-induced fire as a distraction for everyone else.

She was not entirely wrong in the end - the fire was a distraction that he made, despite post-bomb claims of _lucky _electrical issues in the elevator.

But as it turned out, Superman ultimately flew back _inside _the building, yelling for everyone to back away as he swooped toward the elevator. After taking apart the panel inside of it, he pulled out a beeping, blinking metal box, which he immediately sped out of the Daily Planet. Then, a few seconds later, Lois heard the sound of a muffled explosion from outside, which rattled the building.

There was little doubt in Lois's mind that the bomb was meant for her. But Clark refused to say anything when he came back in his glasses and suit, a fire extinguisher in hand, asking if he missed something.

Now that Superman is meeting her on her roof, telling her that she _was _the target of the bomb, she is totally unsurprised. But she supposes it matters that he is _trying _to keep her informed.

"They're getting more serious, now that they know I'm protecting you," he explains. "I keep bringing in their gang members, and their gang members talk, and the police crack down on their accomplices. But that makes it worse in the short run, since they think it all stems from that incident with you in Suicide Slums… since the world thinks we're… "

"Involved?" she finishes for him among her shivers from the cold. It's not as easy, standing on the roof, now that they have entered December. The temperatures, of course, do not affect him.

Superman rubs the nape of his neck, but she's certain that the action is not because of the cold. "Yeah. Anyway, I'm going to keep trying to find Michael Polk - but I don't think he's in the city right now."

"And what about Emil?" she asks. "Has he found anything to connect the weapons or the Kryptonite to Lex?"

His expression darkens. "Not yet."

"Just tell me when."

"Always."

And then he flies off in that _ridiculously_ graceful way of his, leaving her shivering on the roof as it begins to snow heavily.

* * *

The incidents continue. There are people who follow her when she goes hunting for stories, though they almost always disappear in the wake of a red and blue blur, and are later found at a local police station. There are other mercenaries that stare at her as she grocery shops that, thankfully, are also apprehended in a speedy manner.

Clark is incredibly nervous. She can tell by the way his eyes are always scanning her surroundings, or how he never seems to be focused on any sounds that aren't in the distance. Lately, he has even seemed to be avoiding her, though she knows that he is devoting the majority of his time to his duties as Superman, which are now primarily consisting of protecting the city and _her_ in particular. It's a bit humiliating, in all honesty. She hates being helpless, and every second he devotes to saving her is a moment lost of him saving someone else.

Meanwhile, the city is getting colder and colder. Lois doesn't keep track of the days much, but there are suddenly wreaths and red and green bows everywhere, so she figures it must be around Christmas time.

She's not big into celebrating the holiday. Never has been. Her father usually celebrated Christmas at the annual party at the White House, given his status as a general, and her sister Lucy was always at her boarding school in Gotham, partying with her friends. That pretty much left her alone each Christmas, thus making her what she supposes people would call a real-life Scrooge.

"Got any plans for the holidays, Lois?" Jimmy asks in the now high-security Daily Planet, which has been retrofitted with metal detectors and tough guards on the lower floors.

Right now, he is uploading photos onto a computer for their newest story, which involves Superman's visit to the children's hospital for Christmas.

She actually loves the photos… Clark smiling happily as groups of ecstatic children practically climb on top of him…taking a few of them flying… delivering donated gifts to them… placing a star on top of their tree.

God, she is so _screwed_.

"Lois?" Jimmy asks again, glancing at her from the computer screen.

"Hmm?"

"Your plans? For Christmas?"

She shakes her head, tearing her eyes off the photos. "My plans? I'm thinking… a binge-watch of an entire television series… takeout… and a very expensive bottle of wine."

He looks somewhat concerned by this. "No tree? No presents?"

"The wine's a present to myself."

Jimmy shakes his head. "That sounds boring. Cat's throwing a Christmas party, you know. Maybe you should go."

"Yuck. No thanks," she declines firmly. "I like Cat, but I really don't need to see her in the world's tiniest red dress, which is what I'm sure she'll be wearing."

"Well… I'm going…"

"Of course you are. And I'm sure the reason I mentioned has nothing to do with it."

Before he can deny anything, Clark is poking his head into her office, looking rather anxious. "Hey Lois - can I talk to you?"

She nearly wants to punch her dumb, overexcited heart for fluttering hopefully like it does in that moment. However, she manages to respond quite calmly: "Sure. What about?"

He clears his throat and gestures discreetly to Jimmy, who is focused on his computer. "Alone… if you don't mind…"

At that, Jimmy looks up curiously, his reddish eyebrows shooting upwards to indicate his interest.

"Whatever you need to say to Lois," he tells Clark petulantly, leaning back and crossing his arms, "you can say in front of me."

Lois immediately rolls her eyes and heads toward the door. "C'mon. Let's go discuss in your office, Clark."

Jimmy looks offended. "Hey! You can trust me!"

"It's probably stuff for our story. Confidential sources, journalistic integrity, and all that jazz. Can't risk ya, Jimmy. See you later," she dismisses him, pulling Clark out of the room toward his own office.

When they arrive, she finds Captain Maggie Sawyer awaiting them, much to Lois's surprise. There is a cool expression on her face, and her hands are placed in her pockets. Her police badge, meanwhile, hangs over her shirt, glinting in the lamplight.

"What's this about?" Lois asks.

Maggie approaches her, looking somewhat grim. "I'm sure you're aware of the attempts on your life by now. Superman has told you about the Bay Demons, correct?"

Lois wills herself not to glance instinctively at Clark. "Yes."

"Well… the leader of the gang, Michael Polk, has a huge bounty on you, which means that the attacks are not gonna stop unless we do something about them. Recently, we've received a tip about Polk's upcoming return from an out-of-country trip. We think he's coming to deal with you himself," Maggie informs her.

"Sounds like fun," Lois replies. "I _really _hope you're planning on stopping that."

Clark interjects, "Maggie wants to do an undercover operation with a police operative dressed up as you, in your apartment. That way, if Polk comes knocking, he can be caught without actually putting you in danger."

Lois raises her eyebrows. "So… what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I sorta need my apartment, you know."

"For safety reasons," Maggie continues. "we want you out of the city. Do you have any relatives or friends you can stay with?"

"Not on such short notice, no," she replies. "I mean, you guys are springing this on me pretty suddenly."

"We only got the tip today. Clark, here, has been my contact at the Daily Planet for a while now. I figured I could maybe convince you to cooperate through him," Maggie says.

Clark looks at Lois with a hint of what may be a… blush on his cheeks. "My parents have a house in Kansas. It's probably not really your style, but you're welcome to stay for Christmas if you want, Lois."

Maggie looks rather impressed. "Kansas is _way_ out of reach - plenty safe. I'd take his offer, Lane."

Lois looks at Clark almost suspiciously. She simply cannot believe that he would take her somewhere as… _personal_… as his parents' house in his oh-so-precious hometown of Smallville, Kansas. But then again… he has been going through a lot of trouble to keep her safe. She wouldn't put it past him to do this.

But if he goes with her, then Superman leaves Metropolis unprotected.

"I don't know," she replies. "I mean, I don't want you to leave the city just for me, Clark. Kansas is really far away."

"I'm going either way. It _is _Christmas, after all. The only unknown factor is whether you're coming with me," he informs her.

And then, before she really thinks it through, before she considers the ramifications or implications, she answers rather instinctively.

"Alright."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N:**

**the funny thing is, i wrote the christmas part of this story over the summer, and when i started posting weekly, i had no idea that the release of the holiday chapters would align with the time of year so perfectly. **

**i've been really slow on the sequel because i've had a ton of work and i've been stressed out and exhausted and yup i'm gonna try to write today. **

**hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three - Smallville

_CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - SMALLVILLE_

Airplane tickets are nearly impossible to obtain at this point. She's in Metropolis, the biggest city in the world, during days that are dangerously close to Christmas. People are absolutely _rabid_ when it comes to travel right now.

But somehow, Clark manages to snag two train tickets to Kansas City, Missouri. They must have been the last two tickets out of the city to _anywhere_, since everyone seems to be going to visit far-off family or indulging in some sort of vacation.

Anyway, if they arrive in Missouri as planned, Clark tells her that they'll pick up some sort of rental vehicle, and drive the rest of the way.

All in all, it should be an incredibly _excessive _amount of traveling in pursuit of a infamously _boring _destination. The only saving grace is that, according to Clark, it doesn't snow very much in Kansas compared to Metropolis, so at least she won't have to deal with any remarkably unpleasant winter weather conditions.

And then, of course, there is the very exciting yet terrifying prospect of spending an extended amount of time with Clark. And not just Clark… Clark's _parents. _It's usually something couples do, isn't it? Meet each other's parents? And well… they're not a couple. Not officially, anyway.

What if they _hate _her? Would that ruin her chances with him, however slim they may already be?

It's a stupid thought, she knows. These are the people who found an _alien child _and decided to raise it as their own, teaching him to be, of all things, a _hero_. She doubts that there are more accepting and kind people anywhere.

And besides… Lois's father already hates Superman with a passion, and Clark still seems to treat her fine. She'd most certainly return the favor. But… she still worries.

Regardless, Lois has promised both Clark and Maggie that she is _definitely_ going, thus leaving her apartment open for their sting operation or whatever. Unfortunately, that means that she has to participate in last-minute Christmas gift shopping… and ask the ever-stubborn _Perry White _for some days off.

Normally, she only takes Christmas day off, simply because that's what almost _everyone _does, even if they don't celebrate the holiday. But this time, her vacation will span from December 22nd to December 26th - the time it will take to visit the Kents and get back - thus making it the longest recreational vacation that she has ever taken.

Considering her somewhat recent _incident _in Qurac, which resulted in a two-month leave of absence, she worries a bit that Perry will not spring for it. But she figures that if she yells at him enough, he'll budge. It's not like he can _fire_ her, after all. She's his best reporter - internationally recognized, daring, her words sharp as a whip. He'd be crazy to get rid of her over vacation days.

Besides, last time she was recovering from a _bullet wound_, for crying out loud. It wasn't exactly a vacation, in any sense.

So currently, Lois is sitting casually in the editor's office at the Daily Planet, looking disinterestedly at her fingernails now that she has finished requesting the vacation days from Perry. She tries not to seem worried by the pensive pause he is taking in the wake of her words. Is there a problem? Is he not going to let her go? Will she have to _yell_ at him? God, that would be a bother.

"Five days, huh?" he muses suspiciously from the chair across from her, behind the desk. "You never take vacations. Not unless you've been mortally wounded."

Lois shrugs. "I've been stressed. Need some time off."

"Really? You know… it's funny… I think Kent was havin' the same thought. He's taking off five days too. The _same _five."

"So?"

"_So_?" Perry exclaims. "I mean, first you hate the guy. Then you start working on this never-ending article about your ex with him-"

"-You and I _both _know that Lex is a crook. We would have caught him last week if the robbers at the gala didn't fry our recording device-"

"-So then you share taxis with him, go to the fancy party with him, and now you're going on _vacation _together? What the hell are you doing, Lane? Office romances never end well. I mean, back in 1980, man oh man, there was this secretary I dated - gorgeous - but she nearly derailed my career."

"I really don't need to hear this at all, thank you very much," Lois says disinterestedly.

"The point _is_," Perry continues, "the last thing I need is _my _equivalent of Woodward and Bernstein hookin' up, only to have a lovers' spat that ends in one of you quitting."

Lois rubs her temples. "For _Christ's _sake, Perry, would you _stop_? The Bay Demons have been trying to kill me - you know that. Clark offered me a free place to stay out of the city for a little while. That's it!"

"Uh-huh. You're not really the type to mooch off people, Lane. Or shy away from danger. Still seems suspicious to me," Perry remarks.

"My personal life is none of your business, regardless. I'm taking the days off. See you in a little while," she tells him, standing up and heading toward the door.

"Fine! But this better not interfere with your Superman interviews! And keep it safe, Lane! I can't afford to lose you to maternity leave!"

"You keep this up, and I'll quit anyway!" she calls back indignantly from the nearby hallway.

* * *

"Last call," Clark says as he all-too-effortlessly lifts Lois's suitcases into a taxi. "You have everything?"

It's four o'clock in the morning, and Lois's coffee has not kicked in yet _at all_, so she feels barely alive in her exhaustion. Clark, meanwhile, is as chipper as ever, so she can't help grumbling internally about his _damn perfect alien genes_ that let him be a-okay at any time of night or day.

"I'll let you know when I'm awake," she tells him grumpily as she practically collapses into the taxi. She then sees him shrug and climb in next to her, asking the driver to bring them to the train station. They're both in huge winter jackets, so they feel sort of squished, but given how cold and snowy it is outside the taxi, it's actually sort of cozy.

Their boarding of the train is sort of a blur to Lois, given her tiredness. However, at some point, several hours later, she wakes up on in her designated seat next to Clark, ashamed to learn that she has been dozing on his shoulder the _whole freaking time_ \- possibly drooling all the while, too. Of course, she then immediately sits up, apologizes, and tries to act casual about the whole thing.

The ride, in total, is eighteen hours, which is incredibly uncomfortable and exhausting - and is made worse because she keeps falling asleep on his _damn shoulder_.

He doesn't seem to mind much, but then again, Clark never seems to mind _anything _much - except for disasters, criminals, and the likes of Lex Luthor. Luckily, she manages to stay awake after a while regardless.

For part of the ride (when she is not sleeping) they both read books separately, but apparently they're both fast readers, because they both finish them quickly and are soon bored again. Thus, for the rest of the time, they get engrossed in some dumb TV comedy that Lois starts watching on her phone, and end up finishing half the season.

When the train screeches to a stop, it's nighttime - 10 p.m. Lois is incredibly stiff when she disembarks, her limbs stinging. Clark, meanwhile, is once again _absolutely fine_ because why wouldn't he be? He's Superman.

They call a taxi to the rental car company, and _of course_ the company loses their reservation for some ungodly reason, so Lois is forced to yell at them while Clark grimaces apologetically. Eventually, they are given a car at a reduced price. Unfortunately, it ends up being some rusted, bio-diesel guzzling, red pick-up truck that Clark decides he loves, though Lois despises it the second she gets inside it. It's not that she hates clean fuels, or anything. But the car smells like salad dressing, and it gives her a headache (plus, she did an article on sulfuric pollution due to biofuels a while back, so she's still pretty wary of them.)

The car ride is just them talking - about work, about Metropolis, about old stories. They argue about what music to play on the radio, because Lois wants to listen to pop, though Clark wants to hear soft music that Lois refuses to play because it will make her fall asleep again. By the time they settle on a classic rock station, they are two-thirds of the way through their drive to Smallville.

Soon enough, they are descending into a sort of companionable silence as they listen to the radio, with Clark driving peacefully and Lois checking the news on her phone. In reality, however, she is using the device as a distraction, because as they get closer to his parents' house, she really begins to worry.

And then, for some ridiculous reason, she actually asks him: "What happens if your parents hate me?"

He blinks and glances at her, confused. "What?"

"Your parents. What if they hate me? I mean, I am kind of obnoxious. I can admit that."

He laughs heartily at her, like he finds the notion absurd. "They definitely _will not_ hate you. And you're not obnoxious. You're funny and blunt. There's a difference. In fact, I don't think there's a single person alive who hates you."

Lois fights another blush and that _dumb_ warm feeling that appears in her stomach whenever he compliments her. "Oh yeah?" she challenges. "What about Michael Polk?"

"Alright, fine," he concedes. "I think Michael Polk hates you. But that's about it."

"And Steven Dayton."

He raises an eyebrow. "The industrialist?"

"Yeah, I got Professor Hamilton to blow the whistle on his company, back when Emil worked as a weapons designer. Dude hates my guts. Oh - and the entire government of Bialya hates me. Let's not forget that," she adds.

"I take it back. A lot of people hate you. Though for ultimately good reasons."

"Wait… they have good reasons for hating me, or I had good reasons for making them hate me? Choose carefully now."

"Lois-"

"Still don't think I'm obnoxious?"

Clark snorts. "This is a ridiculous conversation. My parents will love you - end of story. You really don't have to worry about it."

"Alright, fine. New topic. Do your parents like socks?"

"Um… I guess…? Why?" he asks.

"Well, I am staying at their house for _Christmas, _so I figured I had to get them _something_, and I've never met them, and almost everyone likes socks-" she rambles.

He is laughing at her again.

"It's not funny!" she protests. "Shopping for gifts is _difficult_, okay?"

"Socks are great," he tells her. "But only red ones."

"_What_?"

"Kidding."

"Don't make me _punch you_, farmboy."

"Speaking of farms," Clark begins, turning the truck onto a gravel driveway beside a mailbox that says _KENT, _"We're here.

The bumpy driveway soon ends in front of an old, yellow house with smoke coming from its chimney and lights in all the windows. Lois sees a typical-looking red barn a few yards away from it, and a huge expanse of empty fields surrounding both buildings. The grass seems to be dead, given the cold temperatures outside, but she can imagine corn or grain filling the area, growing in neat little rows.

"I'd avoid insulting the plaid or the flannel. We farm folk are very sensitive about that kind of stuff," Clark advises her jokingly, a joyous glint in his eyes despite the shadow of his glasses.

He then opens the door and pushes himself out of the car, causing Lois to follow suit. She silently wonders whether she should have worn flannel to blend in more. After all, it's what Clark is wearing right now, under his jacket.

As they both head toward the house, Lois begins to hear excited barking. Soon enough, a medium-sized, shaggy-looking border collie is bounding its way out of its doggy door, running toward them with its tail wagging and tongue hanging completely out.

Clark's whole face immediately lights up as the dog practically jumps on top of him, licking his face excitedly. "Did ya miss me, girl?" he coos as he pets the collie enthusiastically. "Who's the best dog in the world, huh? Is it you? Is it you?"

The dog continues to lick his face affectionately for a while, barking and panting happily, until Clark stands up. Then, unfortunately, the dog moves onto Lois, jumping up on her legs, startling her.

"That's Shelby," Clark explains. "Our dog."

"Oh," Lois replies, reluctantly petting the collie. She's never been a big fan of dogs, though she knows Clark is crazy about any creature with a pulse. "How nice."

But Shelby seems friendly enough, and when two people exit the house and begin walking toward them, Clark scoops the collie into his arms and moves forward to greet them. There is a huge smile splayed across his features - fondness written all over his face. Hoping to avoid interrupting an intimate moment, Lois hangs back.

"Hey Ma! Hey Pa!" he calls. Shelby bursts from his grasp and heads back toward the ground, proceeding to circle them wildly. Meanwhile, Clark pulls his parents into his arms for a tight hug, and they return it eagerly.

One of them - the woman who must be Clark's mother - has graying red hair, a short stature, and a wrinkled and dimpled face. His father, meanwhile, has a white, balding head of hair and the build of someone who was once very muscular, though his strength probably faded with age. Both of them wear glasses, like Clark, but Lois suspects that Clark is the only one who doesn't need them.

Ultimately, she's not surprised to see that the Kents don't share any physical attributes with Clark. No blue eyes, no black hair, no high cheekbones or noble chin. There's little doubt that he is adopted.

His mother places a hand on his cheek. "Oh… my handsome boy. Look at you. Are you eating enough? Getting enough rest? You seem a little thin."

"_Mom_," he complains. "I'm fine. Really."

"Worries herself sick, she does," his father adds in. "With everything that we've been hearing about you and the city-"

They all stop short after what must have been a stern look from Clark, though Lois could not see it with his back turned to her. Then, sure enough, they glance at her almost nervously and approach her.

"And this must be the famous Lois Lane," his mother says, holding out a hand for her to shake. "I'm Martha. This is my husband, Jonathan."

Jonathan bows his head a bit, as if he is tipping a hat. "Nice to meet you. Clark's told us a lot about you."

"Just the good things, I hope," Lois jokes, shaking both of their hands. "And the pleasure's mine. Thanks for letting me stay here. I hope I won't be a burden."

"Nonsense. The more the merrier." Martha tells her. She then rubs her own forearms exaggeratedly. "Gee, it's cold. And _late_. Let's warm you two up… get some food into you… then let you settle down for the night."

And then Lois is being led into the house, with Clark walking next to her, a sort of bashful smile now twisting his lips.

The house is definitely cozy, filled with what must be homemade Christmas decorations and worn furniture. There's a fire in the fireplace, and the smell of something cooking is wafting from an oven. In truth, it looks like a picture cut out of a Martha Stewart Magazine, rather than something from real life. It's _especially _unbelievable to someone like Lois, who has lived in city apartments her whole life, not roomy country houses like this one.

Pictures of Clark line almost every surface. Clark as a (stunningly adorable) baby boy, blue eyed and eager. Clark riding his bike as a toddler, playing with Shelby, leaving on his first day of school. And then there are newer pictures of him - playing football, going to prom with Lana, graduating from Metropolis University, and a very recent one of him standing in front of the Daily Planet.

As Martha and Jonathan head into the kitchen to prepare them a late night meal, despite Clark and Lois's denied offers to help, Lois whispers, "Man, your parents _worship _you."

He chuckles a bit. "They're the best parents in the world."

She's starting to believe him entirely. Not that she has much to compare them to, in her own personal experience. Her father will never receive any "Best Dad" mugs from her, that's for sure.

The meal ends up being some sort of spinach casserole, because Clark obviously does not eat meat. It's delicious though, and Lois nearly stuffs herself on it. Then soon after, she is lethargic and eager to get to bed, so after thanking the Kents for the meal, Clark leads her up to a guest bedroom on the second floor.

"I hope this will do," he says, flipping on the light switch to reveal a room that looks like something from a vintage bed and breakfast.

"It's great," she tells him honestly. "Thanks for this, Clark. Really."

He smiles. "It's not a problem. My parents are always happy to have guests. Plus, if it means keeping you safe…"

Clark trails off, then says quickly, "My room's two doors down, so if you need anything… extra blankets… towels…"

"Got it."

"Goodnight, Lois," he says, closing the door.

"Goodnight, Clark," she yawns. Then she falls backwards into bed, immediately falling to sleep.

* * *

Lois wakes to the smell of something cooking - something delicious. She is drawn downstairs almost subconsciously, where she finds Martha Kent making pancakes on an ancient stove.

"Mornin'," she greets, glancing up at Lois with a small smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Perfectly," Lois replies, trying to avoid letting her mouth water as she stares at those pancakes. God, she can't even remember the last time she had pancakes… and they smell _so good_.

Martha chuckles. "I guess all that sleeping worked up an appetite, huh? Here-" She slides some of the pancakes onto a plate and lays them on the nearby kitchen table. Lois immediately begins devouring them.

"How late is it?" she mumbles between mouthfuls.

"Near eleven, I think."

"Yikes. That's pretty late," Lois remarks, finally locating a clock on the wall for verification. "I could have gotten up… helped you make breakfast."

"Nonsense. You had a pretty exhausting trip. Plus, nothing of real interest is gonna be happening here until Clark and Jonathan get back."

Lois glances around, finally realizing that both men are nowhere in sight. "Get back? Where'd they go?"

"They're going into town," Martha explains as she begins washing a pan in the sink. "There's a Christmas tree farm near the church, and we need to pick one up. Jonathan would've done it himself already, but he's not as strong as he used to be - at least not strong enough to lug a big ol' tree into the house. But, you know, Clark's a _strapping _boy, and he's more than strong enough…"

Then, in a manner strongly reminiscent of Clark, she trails off. Lois doesn't think she has said anything particularly revealing, but even the slightest mention of his strength must be worrisome to them.

Lois glances around the house again, now that light is streaming in from outside. It's cozy… roomy… old… essentially in the middle of nowhere. It's probably a _miracle_ that Clark landed here, as opposed to in the middle of a city. Instead of being poked and prodded by scientists… he got the ideal 'Little House on the Prairie' childhood.

And then she takes a good look at Martha - at her still smiling, dimpled, and weather-worn face. What kind of woman finds an alien child and decides to adopt it? Lois can only imagine the kind of trouble she and Jonathan went through, trying to keep Clark's origins a secret. What did they do for doctors' appointments? Or school registration? How did they even become his legal guardians?

He was the probably the most powerful being on the planet… and for his whole life, he was happily hidden on a farm… in _Kansas_.

And what kind of people could have raised a man as… good… as Clark has become? The probabilities of it all… they're mind-boggling. Because Clark _shouldn't _have become who he is, and he _shouldn't _have been as blessed as he is… but here he is today - Superman. An icon. A hero.

"Did you hear what I said, Lois?" Martha asks, turning expectantly toward her.

Lois shakes her head, breaking out of her reverie. "About the tree?"

Martha smirks. "No… I, uh, asked you a question. But it's no wonder that you and Clark get along so well - he's always got his mind someplace else too."

The real difference, Lois remarks internally, is that Clark probably spends his time listening to current events halfway around the world, while Lois just spends too much time in her own head.

Out loud she says, "Sorry. Could you please repeat it? I totally zoned out."

Martha pours herself a cup of coffee and pulls up a seat at the table, across from Lois. As she leans forward, she has a sort of conspiratorial expression on her face. "Y'know, we hardly get to see Clark anymore, now that he's gone full-on city mouse. And whenever he calls us, he swears he's fine, but he'd swear that he's fine to us no matter what, even if he was six feet under. Now, just ease a mother's worried mind - is he really okay up there, in Metropolis? Is he _happy_?"

Lois considers her question for a while. Recent times in Metropolis have been, if anything, troublesome, between the weapons and the Kryptonite and _Lex_. But as she racks through her memories, Clark has seemed happy. Whenever she sees him, he seems to be smiling, or joking around - so long as he doesn't need to be remarkably tough as Superman in the current moment.

"I think so," Lois replies slowly. "I mean… he is, as far as I've seen him in _normal _moments. Metropolis has been pretty dangerous lately, so we're all nervous, but yeah. I think he's plenty content."

Martha beams and leans back, relieved. "That's good. I'm glad he met you and his other friend at the Planet. A photographer… what's his name?"

"Jimmy?" Lois fills in. "Yeah, Jimmy's the best."

"Well, you know, city folk tend to look down on us midwesterners, so I was a little worried about how he'd be treated. But your editor seems to be recognizing Clark's talent."

Lois smirks. "Yeah, he's a good reporter. Drove me crazy when I came back, actually. Thought he was trying to replace me."

"Yes… well… Clark's told us about the article you two are working on. After that horrific business overseas… I really hope you catch that nasty Luthor boy soon," Martha says into her coffee before taking a sip.

Lois is surprised by the fact that the Kents know about her injury in Qurac. Perhaps they heard about it on the news? Or… did Clark tell them all about her?

Before she has the time to really consider it, Clark and Jonathan are opening the side door to the kitchen, dragging a crisp pine tree behind them.

"We got the tree," Clark calls, "Christmas can come now." He then looks at Lois, noticing her presence at the table, and smiles.

"Well, look who's finally awake."

His father gestures inside the house. "We can all talk when this dang thing is inside. C'mon, son."

Jonathan puts on a real show of trying to help Clark, even though it's pretty obvious that Clark is the only one carrying any weight. He pulls the tree into the nearby living room, where he sets it upright. As they do so, Lois makes a mad grab for a broom so that she can do something - _anything _\- to help, so she ends up sweeping the stray pine needles off the wooden floor.

A few moments later, they are all standing in front of the tree, examining it.

"It's… nice?" Lois remarks, unsure of what to really say. Christmas trees are probably the last things she is an expert in.

"Yeah," Clark agrees. "It was the last one they had. We almost had to fight the Fordhams for it, before they decided on a fake one for this year. Ma, you want me to go get the decorations?"

Jonathan responds instead, dismissing the notion. "Nah. We can do that later. Meantime, there are all those broken beams in the barn that I won't dare fix on my own. Mind helping me with them?"

"Not at all," Clark replies, already heading back outside the house. Before he leaves with his father, though, he shoots Lois a pleasant sort of '_what are you gonna do_?' smile. She returns it, and fights the urge to blush a little.

Martha then turns to Lois. "Well, while Jonathan enjoys the benefits of having his _son _do all the chores on the farm, why don't _we _go decorate the tree before they come back?"

Lois nods, and soon she is pulling boxes out of a closet. They are filled with glass ornaments, garlands, and christmas lights - all of which Lois has _no idea_ how to use. But Martha is eager to show her how they work, and soon enough, Lois is about fifty percent sure that, if given the opportunity, she could decorate a Christmas tree on her own.

The tree itself looks like something out of a movie. It sits next to their fireplace, where several stockings have been hung, glowing with the red and green bulbs entwined in its branches. There are those classic shiny, sphere ornaments too, and little porcelain reindeer strung between the pine needles. And at the top of the tree is not an angel, but a star, which Lois finds rather fitting considering Clark comes _from_ the stars.

All and all… it's the cosiest thing Lois has seen in her life.

Clark takes a suspiciously short amount of time fixing those beams in the barn, because he and his father are soon back inside. Jonathan looks flushed and _freezing_ from the outside temperatures, but Clark, of course, looks as well as ever.

"Wow," Clark says sincerely. "That looks amazing. You guys really went all out, huh?"

"It was mostly your mom," Lois explains. "I do not have a decorative bone in my body."

Martha laughs and pats her on the back. "No, you did really good. You only broke one ornament."

"Yeah, but I cleaned it up _really well_."

Clark laughs at her.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**a/n: So this chapter was mostly fluff, but I love lois/clark fluff**

**ALSO CLARK KENT AND DOGS TOGETHER IS LIKE MY FAVORITE THING EVER SO THIS WILL BE A REOCCURING THEME**

**If I get anything wrong about Kansas, I apologize. I don't live in Kansas so I had to do some research. **

**ALSO, i bought Gail Simone's run on _Action Comics, _and oh my god, her characterization of Lois and Clark is so great. I totally recommend it. **

**I'm TRYING to work on the sequel, but I realized that I didn't like one of the chapters I wrote, so now I'm rewriting that whole chapter, and it's a bit of setback. I'm just so tired that it makes things difficult. **

**And just to clarify, this book is already finished - completely written. I'm just posting it chapter by chapter, which is why I'm able to work on the sequel right now. I think some people were confused about that.**

**Alright, that's all for now! Apparently the Christmas chapter (which is two chapters after this) will align perfectly with the day after Christmas! How cool is that?**

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four - Lana Lang

_CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - LANA LANG_

The day before Christmas Eve passes incredibly fast, and Lois soon finds that the holiday has actually arrived.

It's another day that she unintentionally sleeps late, and she wakes to the sound of Clark knocking persistently on her door. She grumbles and curses at him in her lethargy, and she can actually hear him _snort_ with amusement from the other side.

It must be the lack of city sounds, she realizes. Normally, car horns and emergency sirens are her morning serenade, forcing her out of even the deepest of sleeps. But in Smallville, there is complete and utter _silence_ during the night or the morning - barely even the sound of wind. She expected that there might be a rooster or something to wake her, but apparently the Kents only have female chickens, so no such luck.

Plus, the food in the Kent household is so good that it makes her unbelievably sleepy, so it's no wonder that she can hardly wake up in the morning.

After dressing, she comes downstairs at around eleven again. This morning, she is greeted by the somewhat odd sight of Clark in a somewhat tight sweater and baggy sweatpants, which is an outfit that is a lot more casual than she is accustomed to seeing on him. At this point, he is not even wearing a hat - just the glasses pushed almost haphazardly up on his nose, barely concealing those otherworldly eyes of his.

He is working in the kitchen with his mother, cooking. Whatever it is that they are making, it smells delicious.

Lois clutches her stomach exaggeratedly as she comes to sit at the table, where there is a plate of warm waffles waiting her. "I am going to be morbidly obese by the time we go back to Metropolis."

"Melodrama, melodrama… " Clark murmurs over the sound of something sizzling on the stove.

Lois sits up. "Excuse me. _What _was that?"

Clark turns to her briefly to grin. "Nothing."

"Martha, I think your son was making fun of me. Ground him or something."

His mother chuckles. "We can always make him do plenty of chores."

"Give him all of them. Even the worst ones. Make him clean out the chicken poop, or something."

"Oh, they already did," Clark tells her. "What do you think I was doing while you were sleeping?"

"Oh so _that's _what that smell is, huh?" Lois jokes. "You're lucky that the aroma of Martha's amazing food _mostly _covers up the stench."

"I _showered_, okay? Jeez."

"Snippy tone. Ground him again, Martha."

She does not look up from her cooking. "I'll ground you both, since you're both acting like children."

As Lois tries _really_ _hard _to avoid thinking about the prospect of Clark in the shower, in the bathroom only a few feet from where she sleeps, someone knocks at the front door of the house. Lois looks over at Clark and Martha, who both seem absorbed in their cooking work.

"I'll get it for you guys," she offers enthusiastically, leaving the table. "Least I could do."

"Thank you!" Martha calls.

Lois reaches the door, and after fumbling with the Kents' antique-seeming lock-and-chain security system, it finally swings open.

On the other side stands a woman with wavy, shiny red hair that could probably make Jimmy Olsen's look dull. She is wrapped in a heavy winter coat, and the cold air seems to have flushed the pale, freckled skin of her face. As far as Lois can tell, the woman is very beautiful, with big green eyes and a kind-looking face. That means that she can only be one person.

"You must be Lois," she says, shifting the boxes of wrapped gifts in her arms. "I'm an old family friend of the Kents'. My name's Lana Lang."

Lois doesn't get a chance to greet her back, because a few moments later, Clark is moving from the kitchen, calling "_Lana_?"

He is then pulling her into his arms. It ends up being one of those cliche sort of spinning hugs, which has them both laughing at the end, despite the fact that Lana has to drop all her presents on the floor.

"God, how long has it been?" Clark says as he sets her down and proceeds to pick up the boxes.

"Too long," Lana says. "Martha invited me over for Christmas Eve ages ago, before she knew you were coming back, so I figured I'd sneak in a visit-"

"Oh yeah. Definitely!"

"I've been keeping up with your articles, by the way. That's some real crazy stuff you've been-" She stops short with a look at Lois and seems to change what she was about to say. "-writing. Good stuff, though."

Oh god. Lois knows that look - it's the same one the Kents use whenever they almost say something that reveals Clark's powers while in Lois's presence. Does Lana know his secret? And does Clark _know _she knows? And was he the one who told her?

Lois supposes it makes sense. Lana is supposed to be his closest friend, after all. And as far as she knows… the only girlfriend he has ever had. But if he told Lana… does that mean that he trusts her more than he trusts Lois? It's a stupid, jealous thought that she _hates _to have, but she's only human, and more than anything, she hates being lied to.

"Thanks, Lana," Clark replies with a grin. "You're real early, though. Ma and I are cooking and Pa is doing some sort of… barn inventory or whatnot. He refused to let me help."

"That sounds like him. Stubborn."

"To the core."

"Must be where you got your stubbornness from."

"Probably. Doesn't explain where you got yours, though."

"Guess I just spent too much time with you."

They both turn to Lois again, as if they have suddenly remembered that she is in the same universe as them, if not the same house.

"Lois," Clark begins. "This is my best friend, Lana. Lana, this is my friend from work, Lois."

Lana extends a hand for her to shake, and Lois does so with as much enthusiasm as she can manage. Right now, Lana looks like she just stepped out of a wintry beauty parlor, while Lois _knows_ that she looks like she just rolled out of bed and threw on sloppy clothes - which is fitting, since she actually did. Normally, she doesn't care that much about how she looks… but suddenly she feels like she is under a microscope. And she _shouldn't_… but it's hard when your dream guy's beautiful ex is in the room.

"You know, you're practically a celebrity around here," Lana says unexpectedly. "I remember Clark used to fawn over your articles all the time, back when he was job hunting-"

Lois blinks. "He… what?"

Clark's eyes widen. For some reason, he suddenly drops the presents back into Lana's arms. She shoots him a surprised, dirty look as a result.

"Why don't you put those under the tree, Lana. Right now," he says quickly. "Lois has waffles to eat-"

"Hold on," Lois says, raising her index finger to silence Clark, then turning to Lana. "He used to fawn over my articles?"

She grins. "All the time. It was, 'Lois Lane says this,' and 'Lois Lane says that' twenty-four hours a day around here. He used to read your stuff more than most folks read the bible, _whining _about how much he wanted to work with Pulitzer journalist _Lois Lane_-"

Clark's face is red as a tomato, and he is staring determinedly at his toes with an absolutely _mortified _expression.

"Re-a-a-lly?" Lois drawls with amusement, shooting Clark a gloating look. "Fawning, huh?"

Clark sighs hugely, mumbling something about getting back to his cooking. Before he leaves, he glares briefly at Lana, who smiles sweetly back at him.

Now alone again in the entranceway, Lois and Lana stand there, smiling after him. After a while, they look at each other somewhat awkwardly. Lana is the first one to break the silence.

"He's really fun to mess with."

"I know. It's great. But… was what you said really true? Or was it a joke?"

"Oh, it was real all right. In fact…" Lana begins pointedly, beginning to move into the living room with her presents, "I think he's your _biggest _fan." As she passes by, she gives Lois a conspiratorial wink and an obvious smirk, like they are sharing some sort of important secret.

Then, Lois hears something clatter loudly in the kitchen, which leads her to believe that Clark saw and listened to what transpired, and was clearly embarrassed by it.

She decides that she likes Lana Lang, though. Likes her a lot.

* * *

The Kents skip lunch and have an early dinner, which Lana attends. The prior night, Martha and Jonathan really held back all their stories about Clark, but with Lana here, leading the embarrassing story charge, they readily follow her example.

"And when you were made prom king, God, you were the biggest _doofus _in that crown," Lana recalls around a mouthful of food to a blushing Clark, who seems to sink down into his chair. Everyone at the table is laughing, though, including him, so he doesn't appear to be really _bothered _by the story.

"He was _prom king_?" Lois asks with mock incredulity. "You must be _joking._"

Martha nods, snorting with laughter. "Clark helped win the State Championship for football, so he was very popular. But God… he was so _shy_… he just couldn't handle being prom king."

"I was _fine_," Clark protests defensively. "I just thought the whole thing was silly."

"You couldn't give a coherent speech," Lana disagrees. "You just garbled something into the microphone."

"Well, how was I gonna top your speech, little Miss _Prom Queen_?" Clark demands. "I wasn't planning to be Prom King, you know, so I was caught off guard. But you _knew _you had the queenship in the bag. You planned ahead."

"Not true-"

Soon enough, their dinner plates are empty, and they are finishing off some of Martha's pie. Lois is already feeling lethargic, despite the amounts of sleep she has been getting lately.

Shelby, who was resting peacefully at Clark's feet for the entire meal, suddenly sits up and whines, long and slow. She noses his feet, causing him to briefly scratch behind her ears.

"What's wrong, girl?" he asks. "You gotta go bathroom?"

The dog barks in response.

"Alright, alright. Let's go… " Clark stands from the table, brushing crumbs from his shirt, which Shelby promptly eats. Then, he heads to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag for what Shelby will probably produce very soon - something Lois would prefer not to think about.

"I'm gonna walk Shelby. Be back in a few minutes," he informs them.

Jonathan stands up too. "I'll go with you. I could use the exercise."

"Pa-"

"Don't say anything, Clark. I'm not _that _old."

"No, I just don't want to trouble you, is all."

Jonathan ignores him and heads toward the side door, whistling for Shelby to follow, which she eagerly does. Clark, meanwhile, goes out after them, rolling his eyes in an affectionate sort of way.

Suddenly, Lois is stricken by the fact that _she _has to go to the bathroom too. So she stands as well, stretching before she tells Lana and Martha, "I think the dog and I are on the same page. I'm gonna go use the bathroom."

She is all the way upstairs when she realizes that she left her phone at the table, and after a few moments of consideration, she decides to backtrack to retrieve it. As she descends, she hears the beginning of a conversation between Lana and Martha - one that she _knows_ she shouldn't eavesdrop on, but she simply cannot help herself. So she stops on the stairs, her ears tuned to the sound of their voices.

"I don't understand what his problem is," Lana can be heard saying. "I mean, I've seen the way he looks at her. Why doesn't he just tell her?"

"He's afraid," Martha replies softly.

"Of what? Of being happy? Of actually doing something _he wants_ for once, instead of fulfilling his stupid destiny? I mean… he never looked at _me _like that. So why can't he just be with her, despite all that?"

"Lana… you _know _he loved you," Martha tells her. "He still loves you."

"Not enough to risk his _destiny_ for me," Lana mumbles bitterly. "And if she's what he really wants, then he needs to act on it. A girl like that is not gonna wait around her whole life. I know I'm the only real experience he has with women, and I waited for him forever like a pathetic schoolgirl-."

"Oh come on - you're not pathetic. And he _knows_ what he should do. But he's _terrified._ Apparently she's principled to the core… like him. Probably why he feels the way he does. But he worries that if he tells her the truth… she'll never forgive him for lying to her. The girl's been through a lot. Apparently her last boyfriend was not a very good man…"

"But _Clark _is, and he needs to show her that. As far as I can tell, she's an _extremely_ smart woman. She'll understand. And she obviously feels strongly about him… it's written almost as plainly on her face as it is on his," Lana urges.

"Maybe you should talk to him, then. He won't risk it until he's sure."

"… I feel like that will be the icing on the proverbial 'loser's cake.' It's bad enough that, after everything, I had to act like everything was fine… and _he _acted like he didn't know how much the breakup _hurt_. Giving him my blessing would just be… humiliating, I guess."

"Lana, he was hurting as much as you were. Listen - sometimes things just don't work out… your paths just didn't align," Martha tells her. "But there's nothing wrong with that. You shouldn't have to give up your dreams to be with him, and he shouldn't have to give up his to be with you. That's why it fell apart. It had nothing to do with a lack of love."

"I suppose I know that," Lana admits. "And I want him to be happy, you know? That's the stupidest part. I want him to be happy _so badly_ that I don't care if he forgets about me… It doesn't make sense."

Martha hums quietly before speaking in a comforting voice. "That's what love is, sometimes. It's similar for us. He's out there, in the city, making his mark. Now he hardly talks to us or comes home. Maybe _she_ has something to do with it… I don't know. But we're proud of him… and _happy_ for him. We're glad he feels like he's doing something worthwhile."

There is the scraping of chairs on the wooden floor, and in a fit of panic, Lois scrambles back up the stairs so that she can practically jump inside the bathroom, thus abandoning her phone.

Once she is there, and the door is closed, she realizes just how much her head is _reeling_. According to what they were saying… it sounded like… _God_, it sounded like Clark is in love with her, and the only reason he hasn't told her the truth is because he _thinks_ that she'll be angry with him.

The situation is so ridiculous that Lois feels like laughing hysterically. Clark is in _love_ with her. In love… with her, Lois Lane.

But then Lois considers Lana's words. She sounded so… heartbroken. Obviously her breakup with Clark didn't end on the 'good terms' that he claimed it did. What if Lois and Clark's potential relationship ends the same way? What if there is a conflict of interest - something that they can't reconcile, like Clark and Lana had - that results in Lois watching him fall in love with someone else?

Because that's what Lana is going through at this very moment. Lois cannot imagine what that is like… to lose the person you love to someone else… to feel your heart break from rejection… and yet allow it to happen, simply because you love that person _so much_ that you'll do anything to make them happy.

She immediately feels bad for it… being the person who is essentially stealing Clark. But then again… he and Lana are adults. They fell apart before Lois came along, so is she really responsible for _his_ desire to move on?

It puts her in an odd position, nonetheless… intruding on this foretold story of his. Clark Kent and Lana Lang, childhood friends, lovers as adults… it sounds like something fictional, it is so perfect. And yet… in reality, it is far from perfection.

Lois wants to be happy. And she wants the people around her - Clark… Lana - to be happy too. People can't control what they feel… or what they want… and right now, Lois refuses to feel ashamed for her desires or emotions - or for Clark's, for that matter. If he does love her, which she hopes to _God_ that he does, she refuses to bury their potential. They have to try. _At least_, they have to _try_.

When Lois hears a dog barking, she knows that Clark has reentered the house. She returns downstairs rather loudly, thumping her feet down the steps so that no one suspects that she overheard the conversation.

When she reaches the kitchen, she tries to remain discreet… unnoticeable… because she can't stop glancing at Clark, and can't stop her cheeks from heating up every time she does.

Unfortunately, she doesn't remain that way for long. The night becomes a mess of board and card games that Lois gets a bit too competitive in. She _destroys_ them all in _Clue_, though Clark manages to best her in Scrabble, and Lana brings her to a stalemate Monopoly. It's a lot more fun than she expected, actually. She hasn't played board games since she was a child.

Sometimes, as they laugh and bicker while they play, Lois's eyes meet Clark's accidentally, causing them to flit away in embarrassment. Whenever this occurs, Lois can't help wondering about what Lana said regarding 'the way Clark looks at her.' Is there really something special… something so clearly indicative of love… in his gaze toward her?

And then, as she sits there, watching him as he starts to deal cards, she wonders whether the only reason she hasn't noticed… is that he has always looked at her the same way, from the first day they met. Maybe she never noticed it… never considered it… because there was no alternate behavior to compare it to. Not from him, anyway.

Has he been in love with her _the whole time_?

No, he couldn't possibly have been. The way she initially treated him as Clark… there's simply no way.

Late in the night, Lana decides to head back to her house. She thanks Martha and Jonathan for everything and proceeds to hug Clark. Lois hangs back a bit, mostly because she is still a somewhat stranger to these people, and despises interrupting intimate moments. But Lana turns to her anyway.

"We should meet in Metropolis sometime," Lana suggests. "Do something fun."

Lois nods. "That sounds great, actually. Maybe we can finish that game of Monopoly."

"You're on."

After grinning, Lana turns to Clark, seeming determined about something. "Mind walking me to my car?"

He looks somewhat taken aback. "Yeah. Of course."

"Then let's go."

They leave the house, and for some stupid reason, Lois finds herself listening for the sound of a car engine turning on. One doesn't occur - not for a while, anyway, which means that Lana and Clark were either walking _really_ slowly to the car… or doing something else.

Right now, Lois doesn't let her mind wander or worry. Whatever happens with her and Clark… happens. Even if that's nothing at all.

Of course, in her heart of hearts, she is secretly hoping that Lana is talking some damn sense into him.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: Yeah, so I'm writing more cheesy, holiday fluff. You were all probably apprehensive about this chapter, given the name of it. I hope I didn't disappoint anyone. **

**Basically, I've always hated the idea of Lana and Lois fighting over Clark. Even if they are both in love with him, I wanted them to act like mature, compassionate adults about it, which is what this Lois and Lana do. No fighting. Nothing but wishing each other the best and coming to terms with their own emotions. Lana and Lois are great characters in their own rights, and should be treated as such (I tried my best, anyway). **

**You're not gonna want to miss next week's chapter. Seriously. **

**Also, I'm slowly but surely working on the sequel. It's a bit of a struggle, but I'm trying.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please review!**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five - Christmas

_CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - CHRISTMAS_

The night before Christmas… is the first night Lois does not sleep well in weeks. There are no nightmares about Qurac, luckily. Only contemplation keeps her awake.

She spends the night considering whether she should just _tell_ Clark that she knows that he is Superman. It would be easy, of course. It would simplify everything.

But does she really want to do that here? In front of his parents? She knows they will have a lot to talk through, given the sort of deceit that they have both taken part in. For that, they will need time alone, she thinks. And this just isn't the place for that.

So she will wait. For now. But she resolves that she _will_ tell him.

The morning arrives as soon as she decides, and for the first time, she is up bright and early. With little else to do but go downstairs, she throws on a fresh sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants, brushes her teeth, and heads there.

A glance out the window reveals a dusting of snow on the ground, giving her the ideal 'white Christmas' that she hears people always wishing for. Personally, she doesn't see anything special about having snow on the ground during Christmas. But it is _sort of_ beautiful, she supposes.

She also sees that Clark is already up, but this time, he is alone as he cooks breakfast. Today he is actually in his pajamas, which are those old-fashioned, button-up, flannel kind.

"You know, I was sort of expecting footie pajamas from you, Smallville," Lois says as she enters the kitchen. "But I guess flannel fits your personality too."

Clark looks at her, smiling from his spot at the stove. "Merry Christmas to you too, Lois."

"Where are your parents?" she asks, snatching a piece of bacon out of the frying pan he is working with, and proceeding to nibble on it."

"Bed. I always make brunch on Christmas morning. Kent tradition. Gives Ma the morning off."

"Aw… that's adorable…"

He rolls his eyes. "Must you always make fun of me?"

She smirks. "You make it too easy. Plus, I actually think it's sweet, so I'm not _really_ making fun of you."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, do you need help?"

"No offense, Lois, but the last time you cooked anything, my kitchen was almost destroyed," he reminds her.

"That was a failure of teaching on _your_ part, Mister, not mine. Plus, I can handle pancakes. Just pour the batter on the pan, yadayadayada. Easy peasy," she says.

He looks at her somewhat suspiciously, giving her room beside him at the stove as he begins cooking french toast. "If you say so."

Unfortunately, it's not as easy as she thought it would be. Making the batter proves to be a pain. She keeps cracking the eggs incorrectly and dropping the shards of shell into the flour. Then, when she reaches across Clark to get more eggs, she actually spills the batter _on _him, thus staining his pajamas. Of course, while they try to clean everything up, the toast bursts into flames, which they only manage to put out before the smoke reaches the detectors.

Lois is afraid that he'll be angry with her, given the fact that she essentially ruined Christmas brunch, but he actually just begins to laugh hysterically, which she can't help joining in on.

"Okay so… _not_ a failure of teaching on my part," Clark manages between peals of laughter, continuing to scrub batter off his clothes. "You can do many amazing things, Lois Lane, but cooking is not one of them."

As he drops the burnt remains of the toast in Shelby's food bowl, Lois replies, "Have to agree with you there. I'll stick to reporting."

The dog sniffs the toast but doesn't dare eat it, instead coming to stand by Lois's feet with a whine.

Clark looks at the clock, still snickering slightly from the fiasco that breakfast became. "It's not too late. I can maybe go into town… pick up some food from the diner."

"It's open on Christmas?"

"Yeah. You'd be surprised how many people don't want to cook on the holidays."

After a quick trip upstairs, he is changed into fresh clothes and heading out the door, laughter still glimmering in his eyes. Before he leaves, however, he shoots Lois a pointed look at her spot in the kitchen. "You coming?"

She blinks and raises an eyebrow. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, considering that you were responsible for that mess," he says jokingly. "I think you owe it to me."

Lois snorts as she follows him out, grabbing her coat and heading toward their rental truck. "FYI, if you weren't hogging the eggs, we would have been fine-"

"Of course."

"And for the record, if they were given the proper chance, my pancakes would have been the best _ever_."

"Unfortunately, it is physically impossible for you to give them that chance."

They slide into their respective seats in the car. Shelby, apparently, wants to come along, because she jumps onto Lois's lap in the shotgun seat, causing Lois to start.

"You don't mind, do you?" Clark asks as he starts the car. "She always likes to go driving."

In all honesty, the dog isn't that heavy, and given the cold temperatures, feels sort of warm. But out loud, she complains mockingly, "Oh, you're just _trying_ to torture me now, huh?"

"I thought cats were the ones you were allergic to."

"I'm allergic to all animals. You included."

"I'll compliment you on that one - it was quite the zinger."

"Thank you."

As the car pulls out of the driveway, Lois scratches Shelby's ears affectionately, and the dog proceeds to lick her face. The latter part is something she could live without, but like with many aspects of Smallville, she finds Shelby unexpectedly sweet.

* * *

The center of Smallville is filled with a small assortment of family owned stores. There's a church, a deli, a hardware store, a small grocery, and a barbershop. Nearby, there is a school that Clark must have attended in the past, and only a few feet from _that_ is the diner. To Lois, the town feels almost depressingly small, yet _somewhat_ cozy at the same time. She figures this place might be nice to visit, but an absolute pain to live in, given the serious lack of excitement in the area.

After Clark pulls the truck into the gravel parking lot, they enter the diner, which is unexpectedly crowded with people - families with children, old men nursing coffee, women discussing gossip over donuts. Everyone seems to know each other, which Lois finds rather strange, being from such a large city where no such thing occurs. But she supposes that a lot of small towns are like that.

The diner itself is similar to the types that are typical in movies about the midwest. It sports rickety wooden chairs and tables, a long counter for pie and coffee, old photos on the wall, and even an old record player that broadcasts crackly Christmas carols over the din of conversation.

Shelby follows them inside loyally, staying by Clark's feet instead of attacking everyone's food, which Lois is surprised to see. He must have trained her very well.

When people begin to notice Clark, there are excited murmurs. For a moment, Lois worries about the reasons behind them. Do they know about his identity as Superman? And if they do, does Clark realize how dangerous it is to have an entire town know that information?

"Well, well… if it isn't the big shot reporter!" someone calls out.

Clark smiles as people rush to approach him, causing Lois to back toward the wall, out of their way.

"What's the city like, Clark?" one old woman inquires.

"Have you met any celebrities?" another asks.

"Covered any big disasters?"

"Have you met Superman?"

Clark is blushing slightly, and he rubs the nape of his neck. "Um… the answer to the last three questions is a 'sort of,' I suppose. The city, though, is very _big_ and beautiful. Different from here, but not necessarily better."

"We all took out subscriptions to the paper, Clark," a cook says, poking his head out of the kitchen. "You're one heck of a writer."

"Thanks, you guys, but I'm really not-"

The old woman pinches his cheeks. "Always such a modest boy. You know, it's not often that people make it big in this town."

He laughs a bit uncomfortably as he removes her hand, glancing at Lois in embarrassment. Then, he turns to a waitress.

"I've got a big order. Unfortunately, my breakfast plans went up in smoke."

As soon as the order is in, Lois fights her way through the crowd toward him. Once there, she whispers, "You sure are popular here, Smallville."

He gives her a lopsided smile. "Most people never leave this town. When a former football star does it, they get sort of invested."

"No offense… but I _still_ can't imagine you as a football star," she replies.

Almost cockily, Clark turns to a man sitting at the counter. "Mr. Jenkins, do you remember that time we won the state championship?"

"_We_ won? My boy, anyone there will say without a doubt that _you _won the championship. I remember the day like it was yesterday. Good weather, and the opposing team was _huge_…"

* * *

After delivering the food and gathering the whole Kent family for brunch, the day is mostly devoted to relaxation.

First, they open the presents under the tree. Clark bought his parents a new television, which they both have no idea how to use, but Lois manages to set it up for them. Technology, unlike cooking, is something she can handle. Clark, meanwhile, receives a set of books from his parents, which was apparently what he wanted. The whole family also receives some-much needed kitchen supplies from Lana, while about a dozen other family friends sent them various knick-knacks.

As they were unwrapping their gifts, Lois mostly stood watching them, admiring what they received. Suddenly, she realizes that she forgot to add her gifts to the Kents to the pile, so she stands up and moves toward the stairs, intending to retrieve them.

"Wait!" Clark calls, tossing a brand-new, recently unwrapped dog toy to Shelby (her gift, no doubt). "Aren't you gonna open your present, Lois?"

Lois stops short, taken aback. "You… you didn't have to get me anything," she stammers. "You've all given me more than enough by letting me stay here."

Clark holds up the one remaining box, which is covered in shiny purple paper and tied with a white bow. "Please. Just open it."

Almost reluctantly, Lois moves back into the living room and relieves him of the box. She shakes it slightly, trying to determine what is inside. Unable to do so, she begins to tear the wrapping paper off as neatly as she can, and pulls open the top flap of the box.

Inside there is an assortment of really fancy coffees and teas, a nice travel mug, and what looks like a bag of scones. There is french writing all over the packaging, which leads her to believe that they actually are _from Paris_, given his ability to fly there if he wanted to.

She chuckles, pulling the coffee out of the box to examine it closer. "Heh. You _have_ called me a caffeine addict."

The gift, luckily, is not huge, but is still extremely heart-warming. Because instead of getting her something typical like jewelry or clothes, he bought her something that he knew she would use and _love_. She's always drinking coffee, after all. She has it with almost every meal, and is a sucker for fancy, expensive coffee shops that charge her six dollars for a single cup of the stuff.

Once again stammering, she tells him, "You… you really didn't have to get me anything. Honest."

He shrugs. "I wanted to, I guess."

They stare at each other for a few moments. Lois clears her throat and says, "Thank you, then. I love it. All of you just… just stay here. I have your gifts upstairs."

With that, she stumbles out of the room and scrambles up the stairs. The presents are in her suitcase, and she nearly tears the wrappings trying to pull them out. Eventually, she does it, and is promptly running downstairs with them. In the insanity, she nearly drops her _extremely breakable_ gift on the floor, which would have absolutely sucked. She already caused enough small disasters for one day.

Now back in the living room, she goes to each Kent, handing them their presents - or at least, all but one. "Sorry for not putting them under the tree. I totally forgot," she apologizes.

Lois feels terrible as she realizes how _generic _her gifts to Clark's parents are. Martha and Jonathan got, of all things, socks and gloves. Despite the fact that they are, in actuality, high quality pieces of clothing, it still seems like she didn't _try_.

"Lois… these are so very nice," Martha compliments them, running her hands over the socks. "We'll get a ton of use out of them, don't you worry."

"Especially the gloves. I'm always working outside," Jonathan continues for her.

Lois thinks they're just telling her what she wants to hear.

Clark is last to open his gift. His present… she actually gave some decent thought to. He tears open the envelope attached to the outer part of the box, which, instead of housing a regular card, has a _gift card_ inside.

"You gotta be kidding me," he mumbles, raising his eyebrows at her. He then holds up the card for everyone to see with sarcastic enthusiasm. "A gift card. For the Metropolis taxi service."

She smirks at him in return. "I had to figure out _some way_ to pay you back, Smallville. Now, if you don't use it, you'll just be _wasting_ my money."

"You're ridiculous," he informs her, shaking his head as he moves onto the box.

When he tears the wrapping paper off, his expression becomes less mocking, and more …impressed.

It's a framed blow-up of his first article. Since his office at the Planet is mostly bare, Lois figured that it could use some decor. A reporter's career, Perry always tells her, is not measured by long they were in the job, but how long people will remember their stories after they're out of it. And well… breaking the news of Superman's existence, even if he _is _Superman, was a pretty big deal for Clark. The article deserves some commemoration… even if she resented the first time she saw it… resented the first time she saw _him_.

Clark runs his fingers over the glass and the wooden frame. "Wow. I… never would have expected this from _you_, Lois. Especially when it comes to this particular story. "

"You're a good reporter, Clark," she admits, feeling a blush beginning to creep over her face. "That article was certainly something to remember. And I know at first I didn't really respect you… but now… things have changed. The day you joined the Planet staff was a lucky one - for everyone - and this is to remind you of that."

That leaves him somewhat stunned, but before she knows it, he is soon pulling her into a hug. It's brief, of course. A hug of thanks. But to Lois, it is worth so much more than a simple expression of gratitude, so she spends most of the hug burying her face in his shoulder to hide her red cheeks.

"What about that one, Lois?" Martha asks once Lois pulls away, pointing to the cylindrical gift in her hand, which is still wrapped.

Lois slips it behind her back. "This? This is for later."

* * *

The rest of Christmas passes quickly. She spends some time packing, since they are going back to Metropolis tomorrow. Then, about an hour later, she heads back downstairs.

At the time, Clark is making hot chocolate, and Lois temporarily decides to indulge in that drink instead of her traditional coffee. It's delicious, of course, with whipped cream, sprinkles, and tons of marshmallows floating around the warm chocolate, which totally hits the spot in the cold weather.

And the Kent household gets pretty damn _cold_. Their heater stopped working properly, probably as a result of age. Clark finds himself unable to fix it without an entirely _new_ heater, so they decide to fight through the bad temperatures. Thus, they all wrap up in blankets as they sit on the couch in front of the brand new television, sipping their hot chocolate. One thing the house also doesn't have, besides a working heater, is cable, so they only play old VCR tapes.

Martha picks out some old Christmas-centric claymation film, from which Lois honestly gets the heebie jeebies. She hates little dolls - especially when they _move_, for Christ's sake. That's terrifying. So she finds herself not particularly enjoying the film, but engrossed in it all the same.

At some point, Martha leaves to start heating up Christmas dinner, which was made the day before - it must have been what she and Clark were cooking. Jonathan, meanwhile, goes to check on the chickens outside, leaving Clark and Lois alone… on the couch.

They maintain a pretty wholesome distance between each other - Clark, sitting comfortably to the far right, and Lois, freezing her butt off to the far left, hiding under all the blankets that the other Kents left behind.

When her teeth begin to chatter audibly, Clark turns to her, asking, "Do you want another blanket?"

"No," she tells him stubbornly. "I don't want to make you get up."

"Do you want me to tell you where they are?"

"No. I'm _not_ that cold."

He rolls his eyes. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"Because I don't think I can fit under any more blankets, to be honest. Maybe if you set the blankets on _fire_ or something, I'd warm right up…"

Once more, he rolls his eyes. Then he scoots over, closer to her, until they are side by side, their shoulders touching.

"What… what are you doing?" she demands, reacting to his touch like jolt of electricity.

"I can't set the blankets on fire, but I _can_ lend you some body heat. I don't get very cold," he informs her stoically, like he is totally _not _suggesting that they do something very similar to snuggling, even though Lois knows that he is. "I can move back, if you really want."

She hesitates, oscillating between her options. On the one hand… she could just say _yes_ and 'share body heat with him' or whatever, which seems pretty damn pleasant… but on the other hand, she could say no and totally not seem too desperate.

But it really is freaking _cold_, and she can feel the heat from his skin already.

"Fine," she mumbles, moving closer to him so that she is practically leaning against him. And he's right… he is warm. Maybe it has something to do with the solar energy in his cells… she doesn't really know. Whatever the reason, she is grateful for it.

They continue watching the movie like that for a while. Eventually, Lois feels her eyes closing - a result of her lack of sleep the night before. She tries to fight the exhaustion, but it keeps finding its way back into her eyelids, forcing them shut against her volition.

Before she dozes off entirely, she murmurs unhappily, "This movie is gonna give me nightmares."

"Why?" Clark murmurs back.

"… Somethin' bout their eyes…." she mumbles incoherently, referring to the claymation figures. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his laugh, hearty and soft.

* * *

She wakes up leaning on the couch - not Clark - to the sound of a great clammering coming from the kitchen. Clark and Jonathan are bringing food to the table in hordes of plates, the delicious smell wafting into the next room to make Lois's mouth water.

Martha pokes her head around the corner. "Dinner's in a few minutes, Lois."

Lois disentangles herself from her blankets, yawning as she sits up. "Do you need any help?"

"We're just about covered, thanks."

Soon enough, dinner is fully served, and they are all gathering around the table for one last real meal together. The food, again, is vegetarian for Clark's sake. There's some sort of squash soup that warms her the core, and an _amazing_ vegetable and egg pie for dinner. Some traditional dishes are brought out too - like potatoes, nut loaf, and egg nog.

The fireplace is blazing, the tree is twinkling, and everyone seems to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Lois feels like she has been trapped in some cliche holiday movie, and even more surprisingly… she finds herself _loving_ it.

Halfway through dinner, she stands up, heading back to the last unwrapped present in the living room.

"Moment of truth," she announces, tearing off the wrappings with a flourish. She reveals a bottle of wine - the most expensive one she could find on short notice… the one she was planning to drink on her forsaken, lonely Christmas. "I wanted to save this for dinner. They say that it's always happy hour _somewhere_, even in the morning, but I figured it'd be kinda wrong to have that philosophy on a _holy_ day such as this one so… let's open it now instead."

Jonathan and Martha remark about how long it's been since they've had a good glass of wine. Lois was a little worried at first, since they are such… traditional people, which means that they could have been opposed to all alcohol drinking. But they seem like pretty agreeable people in all respects, the Kents. And she likes that about them.

Clark easily pops the cork off the bottle, and Lois pours them all a decent portion into their glasses. The Kents seem to enjoy it, and Lois definitely does - it tastes _delicious_, so she is ultimately satisfied by her purchase. Clark, meanwhile, takes a small sip and nurses the glass a bit unenthusiastically. She wonders whether it tastes bad to him, given his super senses.

They continue to drink until Martha brings out a fruit cake, which Lois declines. She firmly believes that fruit and jelly should never be in pastries or on meat - to her, they just don't belong there. Then there is some sort of Christmas pudding that she _does_ scarf down. Overall, at the end of the meal, her stomach is _bursting_.

With the wine buzzing in her veins, Lois begins to talk about herself more. She tells stories about articles she has written, and since some of them have been pretty ridiculous, they get decent laughs out of the Kents. Then, Clark and Lois both describe the Daily Planet in detail, though Lois's description gets a little confusing, given her current state. Other recollections ensue - more childhood stories, discussions of politics, plans for exposes, etc.

Suddenly, Clark's phone rings shrilly, startling the whole table. He glances at the caller ID, but before Lois can get a good look at it, he is leaving the table, heading outside to answer the call.

The door closes behind him with a click, but it seems to be the sound that turns off their conversation. Silence ensues, but not the uncomfortable kind. The companionable kind - the kind she often has with Clark.

"You guys seem to work well together," Jonathan observes, breaking the quietude. "You and Clark."

"Yeah… we do…" Lois mumbles. "At the Planet, I mean."

Silence again, but this time there is a little more strain than before.

Martha yawns hugely. "Well, I'm gonna head to bed. I want to see you guys off tomorrow, and I know you're heading out early."

Jonathan nods. "Me too. Thanks for the wine, Lois."

"No problem… "

Before they leave, heading up the stairs, Martha stops and turns back to her. "Oh, and Lois?"

"… Hmm?"

"Make sure he comes back in. He needs his sleep too, y'know."

Lois nods, and they leave. She hears their door shut upstairs, and then it is just her and the crackling fireplace.

After a while, Clark still has not come inside, so she decides that she will go out and ask how long he'll be. Lois is pretty tired too, so she'd like to get to bed as well…

She throws on her coat and braces for the cold that hits her when she opens the front door. When she leaves, Clark is standing on the porch, his phone pressed against his ear. He isn't wearing any outerwear, but then again, why would he? He never gets cold.

"-Yes. Thank you. Thank you very much. That's very good news. Take care now," he says into the phone. Then, he hangs up.

He glances at her as the door closes behind her. "Hey," he greets. "That was Captain Sawyer. They just caught Michael Polk… they're gonna be interrogating him about the anonymous arms dealer. Plus, they put out word that he's behind bars, so the hit on you _should_ expire."

The information takes her off guard. Jeez… she hardly remembers what it's like to be in Metropolis at this point. It feels like a different world… a different decade… than the one she is in now. How strange will it be tomorrow, to go from these open fields to towering skyscrapers?

"That's… that's great news," she tells him sincerely. "That's one less thing to worry about, _Thank God_."

"Definitely. Their operation worked - he was gonna attack you at your apartment on Christmas day, knowing you'd be there, but since you weren't, they caught him in the act. But Maggie says you should keep wearing the bulletproof vest - give it some more time before you let your guard down"

She looks out at the snow-dusted ground, which is empty for miles around. "Huh. So being in Smallville really did save my life."

He nods. "I suppose so."

"And after tomorrow it's back to normal - story hunting and printing presses and all that jazz."

He leans on the porch railing, following her gaze. "Yup."

"You excited?" she asks.

"What?"

"Are you excited to leave?" she clarifies. "I mean, it must be hard to leave home."

He purses his lips before he answers. "Metropolis is my home too. Just in a different way. No matter where I go, I'll always miss them."

"The people or the places?" she asks.

"Both."

The cold, at this point, is unbearable to Lois, but Clark seems plenty willing to stand outside the whole night. Somewhat awkwardly, she tells him, "Uh… I just wanted to thank you again. For inviting me here. For everything."

His eyes meet hers. "It's no problem. None at all."

"Maybe," she replies. "But I'm still not sure I deserved this sort of kindness from you. Or from anyone, for that matter."

"You did," he affirms. "Trust me."

She smiles slightly, feeling light enough to say things that she never expected she would.

"I do, you know. I do trust you. With my life."

To that, he has nothing to say back. He simply stares at her, mouth slightly open, like he is trying to formulate some sort of response… or reveal some sort of truth. But he doesn't. He can't.

When minutes pass and he still has not said anything, she leans toward him and presses a kiss to his cheek. She feels him freeze… feels the warmth of his cheek against her lips.

"Goodnight, Clark," she says as she begins turning away, moving back toward the door.

But then his hand is on her shoulder, and he is pulling and turning her back toward him. There is something incredibly odd in his expression - something she does not know how to describe…a steeliness, but an affection. A longing. She can see it so _clearly_, they are so close together now. Mere inches away… centimeters…

It's almost surreal, the feeling of his lips on hers. His are smooth, perfect, as they slide over hers, matching hers top to bottom. His hands immediately cup the back of her head, while hers come to rest instinctively against his cheeks, bathing in the warmth of his bare skin. She can smell his breath - feel it hot in her throat… it smells like the wine she knows he didn't like… some sort of mix of plums and grapes…

He's so _warm_, and her head is hazy already. She is melting into him… and God, there is some sort of electricity-

But then he is pulling away abruptly, like he realized he had some pressing matter to attend to. His voice sounds strange… distorted… tortured?

"I'm sorry," he tells her. "That wasn't… wasn't-"

Lois is still too stunned to speak, and apparently, so is he.

"I just… I… g-goodnight," he manages finally, seeming angry at, of all people, himself. Then he is pushing past her, into the house, probably off to bed.

Lois knows that she should go to sleep too, but right now, she feels like she needs the cold to snap her back to reality.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR DC COMICS-RELATED**

**A/N: I hope you all have/had a wonderful holiday. And voila! A kiss! Finally (though I know it wasn't perfect)!**

**This book is coming to a close soon...and I _need_ to get farther along in the sequel. I NEED THE MOTIVATION. **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed. Please review! **


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six - The Talk

_CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - THE TALK_

The suitcases are packed and loaded in the car, which roars to life and still smells like salad dressing. Outside, where Lois and the Kents stand, the snow is falling lightly from the sky, but it melts nearly as soon as it hits the ground. It's too early - four o'clock in the morning once more, so the sun still has not truly risen. Instead, it rests unwoken near the horizon line, painting the distant navy sky with a gradient of light.

The more Lois thinks about leaving - the more she examines this place of rickety houses and barns and open fields - the more it feels like she is abandoning peace in favor of chaos. It's not necessarily a bad thing, of course. Lois finds excitement in chaos… her job _depends_ on chaos. And being here forever would probably become something she'd resent, like being trapped.

But right now… after all she has been through recently… running away to these unconditionally kind people, even for a short time, has felt the exact opposite of trapping - it felt _liberating_.

Of course, things are changing now. Clark kissed her last night - that she remembers quite clearly. She remembers the way he did it, like it was something he had longed for, only for him to pull away so abruptly. Lois honestly does not know what to make of it. She kissed him back, hadn't she? Wasn't it abundantly clear that she had feelings for him, and vice versa?

Lois is truly starting to wonder if Lana was wrong after all. How could he be in love with her, after pulling away like that? But then again… how could he _not be_, after _kissing_ her so passionately?

The whole morning, as he was eating breakfast or packing the car, Clark has not looked at her. It seems like… _God_, it almost seems like _she_ has done something wrong. And she hasn't - not at all. He kissed her, she kissed him back - he was the instigator, in that situation, so he needs to take responsibility for… whatever went wrong. There is _no way_ that she will apologize for a wrongdoing that was either A) unintentional or B) nonexistent on her part.

Now that they are ready to leave, it is time for them to say their goodbyes to Clark's parents. Clark goes first. His mother wraps her arms around him and tells him, with utmost seriousness, to be safe. He pecks her on the cheek affectionately before moving on to his father, who also hugs him. Jonathan Kent, on the other hand, tells Clark that he is incredibly proud to have him as a son. Finally, Shelby bounds up to him, so he pets her and allows himself to be licked on the face a bit.

Then he is released, and it is Lois's turn to say goodbye as Clark starts the car.

"There's no way I could possibly thank you for everything you-" Lois begins, but Jonathan interrupts her.

"Nonsense. Having you was a pleasure."

She shakes Jonathan Kent's hand. It's calloused but warm - the hand of someone who works hard.

Before she knows it, Martha is then hugging her. Lois returns the embrace somewhat awkwardly. It's not often she gets such affectionate gestures.

"I expect we'll see you around here soon," Martha whispers by her ear, her voice once again conspiratorial. Lois actually has no idea what she's talking about, but nods nonetheless.

Then, she pulls away, waving and saying "Goodbye now," as she approaches the car. Just as she is about to close the truck door behind her, Shelby jumps into her lap excitedly.

"Sorry girl," Lois tells her, scratching her ears. "Can't take you with us. But I'll miss you, okay?"

And with that, she deposits the border collie back on the ground, and the dog trots dejectedly back to the house. Lois feels an odd sadness burning at the pit of her stomach, watching the Kents standing there, waiting for them to leave. Then, the car is pulling away, heading back to Metropolis - her home, and one of Clark's too.

* * *

Lois and Clark's conversation on the train is strained - more strained than it has ever been, save for their first few meetings. It's unsettling - upsetting - that everything they had can be so easily upheaved by _one kiss_. And it was a kiss that _she_ didn't even cause. It was all him - he kissed _her_, and now he's making it a problem.

They spend the eighteen hours watching one and a half seasons of that TV show they started on the last trainride. This time, however, she doesn't dare fall asleep, in case she leans on him and makes their horrible situation even worse.

To avoid thinking about his current behavior too much, she checks the news for the first time in days. It seems that Superman has still been patrolling Metropolis during their time away, though less frequently. There were plenty of times that he could have snuck away, she realizes. Just another thing that he hid from her.

Ultimately, it's the longest train ride of her life. Not that she's taken many train rides - she's more accustomed to short subway rides and taxis.

Regardless, she just wants him to _freaking look her in the eye_. Or, even better, maybe they can have a decent, adult conversation about what happened, so they can work through it. Maybe he was acting on a whim, and didn't like what he found once they actually locked lips. But that isn't her fault, okay? And he _knows_ that she always prefers the truth, even when it hurts. So why can't they talk about it? Why is he 'Superman' in all other endeavors _except_ for handling relationships? Honestly, it's so ridiculous and _typical_ of men - even alien men.

After the train ride and the subsequent nighttime taxi ride back to their building, they find themselves lugging their suitcases toward the front door of the apartment complex. Lois glances around, reveling in the towering skyscrapers, blinding lights, and crowded sidewalks. Metropolis's heartbeat still appeals to her more than the country air, but lately, she's started to realize that they're both great, in their own ways.

Like the trip back, Lois finds the elevator ride with Clark… tense. It is, however, the first time she catches him looking at her. His expression is odd again. What is it, though? Anger? Guilt?

What the freaking _hell_ is wrong with him?

Despite whatever problems he has with her, Clark is still carrying half of her four bags (she has trouble traveling light, in all honesty). Once they reach their floor, he pulls them out of the elevator for her, heading toward her apartment wordlessly. There is a vague sensation in Lois's chest - something akin to suffocation - as she turns the lock of her door, thus swinging it open.

"Where do you want the bags?" he asks her emotionlessly.

"My bedroom, please," she responds as she closes the door behind her, a degree of bitterness evident in her voice.

Again, he soundlessly moves into her bedroom, dropping the suitcases near her dresser. Afterwards, he looks at her and says in the same mechanical voice, "Goodnight, Lois."

He is moving back toward the door, where his own suitcase was left.

And _God, _Lois is so angry at him. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he goes and _confuses_ her again - making her doubt him, doubt herself. She just wants to be done with this - done with the longing and the guessing and the uncertainty. So this is where she is going to finish it, she supposes, for better or for worse. Right here, right now.

"So that's it, huh?" Lois snaps. "No kiss this time? Just another abrupt exit?"

Clark freezes and turns. His voice sounds somewhat sickened when he says, "I suppose so."

Lois scoffs. "Wow. Not even a conversation about it. That's real brave, Smallville."

He scrunches up his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

"An explanation, maybe?"

But then his expression is tortured - so clearly tortured that it's almost like someone is injuring him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes sincerely. "I'm so sorry."

But even that is not good enough for her right now. She will not relent. What is he sorry for? Kissing her? Leading her on when he has no feelings for her?

"That's _still_ not an explanation."

Clark sighs deeply, like someone trying to exhale poisonous air. But then his words seem to explode out of him, angry and embarrassed and _guilty_.

"I don't have one, okay? I was being _stupid_ \- I was caught up in the moment, in my own emotions, and I did something that I shouldn't have. But I promise, I will _never_ take advantage of you like that again-"

She blinks, now even more confused. "Take… _what_?"

"Take-take advantage of you?" he repeats, also growing puzzled at her lack of understanding. "You're mad at me, right? For kissing you?"

"Um… not really. I kissed you back. It was sort of a mutual thing, I thought," she tells him matter-of-factly.

"But-but you were _drunk_," he protests. "You trusted me, and I tried to kiss you when your judgement was impaired. It was _wrong-_"

"_Drunk_?" She squeezes the bridge of her nose, in utter disbelief at the true reason behind their recent issues. "You're kidding me right? You are _so_ naive. It takes more than a few glasses of _wine_ to really impair my judgement."

"But-"

"And okay, maybe I was acting a little tipsy and tired, but I was still perfectly capable of making decisions - especially when it comes to kissing who I want. And I did. I did want to kiss you. If I didn't, I would have pulled away. But instead you _pulled away,_ without so much as a reason why, making me feel worthless for being stupid enough to fall _in_ _love_ with you-"

Eyes widening, Lois snaps her mouth shut. Clark's eyes, as far as she can tell, do something similar, but his jaw drops instead of closes. Silence envelopes the room, heavy and consuming.

_Why_ did she just say that? Oh god, how could she have let herself ramble on like that…?

"You're… you're _what_?" Clark sputters, his voice oddly hoarse.

Lois just gulps. "Do not… do not make me repeat that, or I swear-"

"You've been _in love_ with me?" he says anyway, repeating it for her like he is still processing some obscure, unbelievable fact. It's a tone you'd expect to hear when you tell someone that all their underwear has mysteriously disappeared - not when you tell them you're in love with them.

This is a _nightmare_, she realizes. It's like he never considered it. Never wanted to consider it - that she could love him. She's made a fool of herself, and there will be no way to fix this now. Now the situation is so much worse than a kiss could have made it.

"I _get_ it!" Lois yells angrily, throwing her hands up. "You don't reciprocate. So stop humiliating me and just get out-"

And, of course, he makes it worse, because now he is laughing at her. It's not hysterical laughter, or anything particularly cruel, but Lois still wants to bury her head under a pillow and _scream_.

"Ughhh," she groans, heading back toward her room so that she can slam a door in his face. There are tears at the edges of her vision, persistently pushing their way out. "I can't believe that after _everything_ I've been through for you - all the secrets I've kept, the times I've saved your life when you were in that _dumb cape_ \- that you would be such a complete _asshole_ about this. If you don't feel the same way, fine, but you don't have to _laugh_ at me-"

Suddenly, he grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around. The look in his eyes is… bewildering.

"You _know_?" she hears him gasp, his expression like that of someone who has been slapped across the face.

In her completely frustrated state, she has rambled again - said things she didn't mean to. But it's too late to regret them now, she supposes. So Lois rolls her eyes and tears herself out of his grip.

"Of course I know, you _lying_ jerk. How long, exactly, did you think you could fool me with glasses and a _fedora_? Honestly, you _idiot_, I'm an investigative journalist. I've known for months - not that you made any effort to _tell me_."

"You know… have known… that I'm Superman… but you're _still_ in love with me?"

She clenches her jaw. "At this rate… not for long."

"I thought-I thought you'd hate me," he tells her numbly. "I really did."

"Oh, I _was_ angry. But I also _respect_ what you do, and I wasn't about to push you if you didn't trust me. And I hoped… that eventually… you'd trust me enough to reveal your identity to me… but I was obviously _wrong_. So I'm done hoping - done waiting around, done _pining_ for you. I won't tell anyone… I promise….but I want you to g-"

But she is cut off - cut off by his lips catching her own, his exhale of breath caught in her mouth. This time, their noses bump together awkwardly as he presses his face toward hers. She was so _not ready _for this kiss - so _not_ expecting it, her body tense and angry after all the words they have exchanged.

Lois pushes him backwards, away from herself. "What the _hell _was that?"

He stumbles a bit before righting himself. "I thought… I thought you were just being sarcastic."

"_What_?"

He blinks and declares matter-of-factly, "Obviously, I'm in love with you. I _thought_ you knew that."

Lois resists the urge to choke on something nonexistent. "What do you mean '_obviously_?' It sure wasn't - isn't - obvious to me."

"You're kidding me, right? Jimmy, Cat, Lex, Perry - they've all noticed it," he tells her somewhat bitterly. "They were all quite eager to inform me that Lois Lane is _way_ out of the league of a Kansas farmboy. After that, it was pretty clear that you'd never fall for me. I thought you were just ignoring or tolerating me, or, if I was lucky, considering me a friend-"

"Are _you_ kidding?" she retorts. "_Everyone_ has noticed how I look at you. Both sides of you - in and out of costume. Lex… Perry… Lana… Martha… even the damn tabloids. Plus, you never told _me_ the truth, which is why I thought you didn't have those sort of feelings. And all this time you never made a _single_ move-"

"I was afraid you'd hate me. Lex already lied to you so much… I didn't want to be like him. Not in your eyes."

"So _why_ were you laughing at me?"

"I was laughing in _relief_," he emphasizes. "You think _you've_ spent time pining? Ever since I met you, I felt… _something_. And then there was that moment, with your dad, when you gave that speech to protect me…and I just… "

He trails off before starting again. "Lois, you've dated billionaires and princes and celebrities. Lex Luthors and Bruce Waynes and Oliver Queens. How could I expect you to return my feelings for you? Despite the glamor of the off-world origins and the powers… by all accounts, I'm still just Clark Kent - a provincial, half-decent reporter. That's why I never said anything - I thought that you didn't want me to - that it would just ruin our partnership… our friendship…our _everything_."

After that… they stand in silence, just… gaping at each other. What else are they supposed to say? That they're sorry for misunderstanding each other so completely and monumentally? That they forgive each other? Every option seems… inadequate.

"So… what do we do now, huh?" Lois asks quietly, proceeding to exhale hugely. "We're total idiots."

He smirks slightly. "Can't disagree with you there."

"You really thought I was being _sarcastically_ angry with you?" she demands with frustration, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well… you're _always_ being sarcastic. I thought it was just one of those '_you never loved me enough_' martyrdom jokes."

She points an accusing finger at him. "I'd never make jokes about something _that _serious. You, meanwhile, were laughing your damn head off like my emotions were the world's most _pathetic_ joke."

"I was really laughing at myself, since my obliviousness has made _me_ the universe's most pathetic joke," he disagrees, his face close to hers in the heat of the argument. "All that time worrying about whether you'd find out and hate me, or worrying about whether you felt anything at all-"

"Well, _Superman_," she interrupts, pulling off his _dumb_, _worthless_ glasses. "For a guy with super senses, your powers of observation _suck_."

"Well, for an investigative journalist, yours aren't so great either," he rejoins, plucking the glasses out of her hand and placing them on a nearby countertop.

He spins back around to look at her, and now they are simply staring at each other, breathing somewhat heavily from their argument. His eyes are nearly _glowing_ blue in her poorly lit living room, their colors still so otherworldly and mesmerizing. She flashes back to the first time she really got a look at them - the day he saved her life at Lexcorp. And there were other times after that… their first interview… the time he thanked her on her roof, when she was close enough to kiss him…

They are that close now, their noses almost touching from their confrontation. And by thinking about all they've been through, as Superman or Clark Kent, she finds that her irritation is slipping away. She can feel her glare softening, her eyes coming to rest on his lips. And God, they've always been perfect - his lips. Nearly as perfect as his eyes, which are half-lidded with something that look suspiciously like desire, and are moving closer as he angles his face toward hers.

"Can I kiss you now?" he murmurs softly toward her mouth.

It seems like they are suspended here, so close to one another. She can do little else but murmur back, "I think that's the best idea you've had all day, Smallville… "

Lois moves onto her tip toes, pushing her lips onto his. This kiss, she can immediately tell, is different than the last. Last time they were chaste, but _this_? This is something of a whole different species.

She has heard that sparks fly when you have true chemistry with someone, but this, right now, is pure electricity running through her veins, pumping its way from her lips to her toes. Everything about him is making her feel heady - the feeling of his hair as she tangles her fingers in it, the minty smell of his breath in her mouth, the sensation of his arm around her back, pulling her ever closer to deepen the kiss.

His skin is still so warm - she can feel it through his clothes, with how close they are pressed together. And then there is his heartbeat - hammering away against her own, which beats just as savagely, if not more so.

Her eyes have closed a long time ago, so now all she has is sensation. Thus, when they begin moving blindly toward the bedroom, they bump into things and knock them over without caring one bit, completely absorbed in one another. It is only when their legs smack into the side of her bed that they are somewhat brought back to reality, and their faces pull away slightly.

They are both breathing heavily - which she finds funny, considering that Clark doesn't even need to breathe. But maybe… given the excitement… it is all instinctual. Her face feels warm, but she no longer cares because she has nothing to hide, nothing to be embarrassed about, so they both begin to grin at each other.

Their eyes meet intensely, like they are both asking the same question, and immediately receiving the answer. Clark still decides to voice it out loud.

"You're _absolutely_ sure?" he says, loosening his grip on her to show her that she can _stop_, if she wants.

Problem is, she doesn't want to.

"Yup," she answers simply, throwing her arms around him and pulling him close once more. The kiss becomes more fierce… more passionate. She fumbles with the buttons on his shirt for a little while before deciding just to pull it over his head entirely. It's purposely ill-fitting, per Clark Kent's usual style, so luckily, it comes off rather easily. Now, she is leaning against his bare chest, which, in the glances she sneaks in between kisses, is pretty damn perfect - muscular and smooth and _Clark's_.

Her own sweater, which is a bit tight and button-less, proves a bit more of a problem. Fits of manic laughter ensue as they both struggle to get it off, and eventually, she just tells him to tear it away - she won't miss it. He does so - easily and eagerly - and soon afterwards, they are flopping onto the bed, still giggling and kissing and _electrified._

One of the last things she hears him say, muttered between kisses, is: "God, I love you."

Her response is a little less romantic. But she's emotional, and little freaked out despite everything, so she just _has_ to use humor to diffuse her giddiness.

"_God_? I thought you were in love with _me_."

He laughs, but not hard enough for him to miss when she actually returns the words. It's the first time she has ever meant them, too.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: What a way to start off the new year, huh? Happy 2016, everyone! (I'm sorry if that was really cheesy and ridiculous). **

**This story will be coming to a close soon. I've got some fluff on the way... and then... well, there's still a lot of loose ends that this story needs to tie up, and they more-or-less will be. **

**Sequel is coming along nicely. I got a lot done during my winter break, so it should be ready for you by the time this ends. **

**The sequel is going to have a lot of Clark's (third person) POV. So to get into character, I wrote a few scenes from this story his point of view. I can probably add them in as bonus content at the end, if you're interested. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please review! **


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven - Two Weeks

_CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - TWO WEEKS_

Lois stirs in response to light streaming in the window and the honks of taxis in the city below. She allows her eyelids to flutter open only slightly, refusing to fully wake. Right now, she is too lethargic - and too comfortable - in bed like this, under the covers and leaning against… something. Something fleshy and soft and warm that she can't immediately identify.

But then the memories from the previous night flash before her mind - every _incredible_ moment of it - and her eyes instantly fly open to verify that those events were _real_ and not some ridiculous dream.

She blinks a few times before her eyes truly focus, but once they do, she is relieved. Clark's chest is evidently the 'something' she is leaning upon. They are twisted in the covers together, and a glance upwards alerts her to the fact that he is fast asleep, his eyes peacefully closed and his breathing deep and rhythmic. It seems _wrong _to wake him. Plus, she really _can't_ look away when he looks like this, bathed in the wintry sunlight streaming in from the window.

_Christ,_ he really is beautiful, she realizes. Not _hot_ or _cute_, but quite literally _beautiful. _This is the first time she has seen him without his glasses or his Superman costume, and in all honesty, he truly takes her breath away. She searches his face, trying to find any physical flaw - any at all - but there is none visible, save for his temporarily tousled hair (which Lois knows is her fault). Every inch of him is perfect skin and perfect muscles. And inside, there is also that equally perfect, ridiculous golden heart of his - the one that she fell head over heels for. Plus, there's that silly farmboy personality of his, with his strict gentlemanly _manners_. Or his probably genius-level intellect - he went to an Ivy League school, for God's sake.

For the first time, she wonders what he sees in her. It's an inevitable question, of course. He is Superman, after all. He could have anyone he wanted in the whole wide world - actresses and models and heiresses. And who knows? Maybe there are alien princesses out there who would _kill_ to date Superman too.

She's not like him. She's not perfect - not physically or mentally or emotionally. She gets pimples and looks like a wreck in the morning. Her feet are gross - they're her least favorite feature, in fact, because of her thick toenails. She makes jokes that are often offensive or inappropriate, and despite what he says, she knows that she _is _obnoxious. Sometimes she is downright mean, in her desperation to make people respect her. And God knows she can't spell for her life - it drives Perry crazy.

So why would he fall in love with Lois Lane, a not-much-more-than-average human woman? It really, truly doesn't make sense.

And apparently he has been in love with her since… since they first met? Since she stood up for him against her father? God, it's crazy to think about.

Suddenly, Lois feels Clark shift next to her, his breathing pattern changing. Immediately, she moves her eyes away, hoping he won't notice that she was staring for so long. When his eyes do flutter open, revealing those bright blue irises under his thick lashes, she pretends to be just waking.

They lock gazes as he stretches out the arm that was previously wrapped around her. Soon after, he is pressing a kiss to her temple, murmuring "Mornin'," rather groggily by her ear.

His arm wraps tightly around her once more, pulling her closer to him than she was when they were simply sleeping. Their positions shift slightly with the motion, and now they are both on their sides, facing one another.

She sees that his eyes are closed again - his expression completely relaxed and content as he lies with her.

"We have work today, y'know…" Lois mumbles against the mattress. "Perry'll kill us."

Clark hums but still doesn't open his eyes. "It's still early."

"Don't farmboys get up at like five in the morning?"

"Hmm… not always…" he says softly.

As much as she would like to remain in place, Lois disentangles herself from him, leaning over to check her alarm clock. It's around eight o'clock - late, by her standards. He may be able to get ready faster than a speeding bullet, but she can't.

Thus, she practically tumbles out of bed, scrambling to find clothes for work. Now she has to account for showering and getting dressed and taking a taxi to work during _rush hour_.

Of course, she has to do all that while very _strongly_ desiring to return to bed, where Clark is still very gorgeously naked and half-asleep. He groans slightly and squints his eyes when she moves away from him, and is soon inquiring, "What's wrong?"

"We have to be at work in one hour, and I haven't showered in _over _24 hours, and I have to do my hair and my makeup. Plus, how am I gonna eat breakfast, and hail a taxi, and beat traffic?"

"But… you look beautiful already?" he says unhelpfully, moving into a sitting position.

She scoffs and ignores him, going toward the bathroom. "Smooth, but totally _not_ fixing the situation here, Smallville."

"I could make breakfast?" he then offers. "Fly you to work?"

Lois turns back to him, considering his words. Flying _would_ drastically cut their travel time. "Now, that's an idea."

He looks around. "Small problem, though. I just x-rayed your cabinets. All you have is old cereal."

"Not very gourmet."

"Well, I could run over to my apartment, but I'd have to get dressed first-"

"Or…" she counters suggestively, "You could run in for a _super_ quick shower with me, and do that after."

"That… is also an idea," he grins. She watches as he floats out of bed, coming to stand next to her in that ridiculous, graceful way of his.

Rolling her eyes, Lois begins dragging him to the bathroom by the hand. "You're _such_ a show-off. C'mon. We gotta be quick."

* * *

"I can't believe it," Jimmy Olsen exclaims around a mouthful of hamburger. "I _still_ can't believe it."

Lois rolls her eyes and bites into her own burger. It's not very often that eats she meat anymore, now that she spends so many meals with Clark. He doesn't make a big stink about it, or anything - he's not one to force his preferences on anyone. But she can tell that he gets uncomfortable when she does have it, so she tends to avoid it for his sake. She figures that it's one _small_ compromise that she can make. Lois has never been picky, anyway, and she'll generally eat whatever is put in front of her, so it's not like it's a huge sacrifice.

She has never explicitly asked him why he doesn't eat meat, but she has her suspicions as to the reasons. His love of animals is one. Another could be his super-senses. It's completely possible that he experiences life - all life - in a far more intense and detailed way than regular humans do. And maybe all that detail makes the prospect of eating another living thing… sickening.

If their situations were reversed, and she could hear a cow's _every_ bodily process, even from a distance, Lois thinks she'd forsake meat too.

But trying to imagine what it's like to be Clark - to have all those fantastical powers - makes her head hurt.

Currently, she knows he is completing the very mundane task of covering the mayor's press conference. Lois nearly got kicked out of city hall a little while ago by asking questions about the mayor's embezzlement charges, so Perry figured he'd send Clark - who is notoriously mild-mannered and innocuous - to handle the questions this time.

Nonetheless, he will be back soon - but she has just enough time to indulge in the disgustingly delicious, fast-food burger that Jimmy brought for her from a nearby restaurant before Clark returns. Of course, when Jimmy delivered it to her in her office, he thought it would be a good time to question her relationship with Clark _again_.

"I mean, it's been two weeks now, and I still just can't fathom why you - Lois Lane, famous journalist, ex-girlfriend of millionaires and billionaires and male models, would date _Clark Kent_," Jimmy tells her after swallowing. "Don't get me wrong - Clark's the best. He's really nice and my friend and my co-worker and all that. But he's so antisocial, you know? And he's not exactly the most _attractive_ guy in the world. Plus, he's always tripping over things, and he can't speak without stammering-"

"Jimmy!" Lois interrupts loudly as she puts down her burger, "Can you _stop_? That's my _boyfriend_ you're talking about, remember."

It's still odd to say, even two weeks later. Clark Kent - Superman - is her boyfriend. She wakes up next to him every morning, works with him every day, eats dinner with him every afternoon, and goes flying with him nearly every night.

By most people's standards, it probably seems like they're moving too fast. But Lois doesn't really care. After all, they _already _admitted that they love each other, so it's not like they need to figure out their feelings - she believed what she said, and there's little doubt in her mind that he was just as truthful.

Plus, they were already really close before their relationship began. In fact… it's actually sort of odd, how familiar they were with each other _before_ their first kiss. Somehow, she has known so many obscure things about Clark Kent for so long - his favorite music, his most worn shirt, the books he always rereads. Meanwhile, he has always remembered weird things about her - her favorite episodes of her favorite TV shows, the exact way she likes her coffee, the phrases and words she tends to use too much. As far as she and Clark are concerned, there is not much more rapport to build between them.

Not to mention that she feels _content _\- maybe downright _euphoric_ \- with him. Lois loves the feeling of his arms around her as they go flying, or the way she can make him spit out food by cracking a joke at the right time, or his tendency to shut her up with a kiss whenever she rants too intensely or too protractedly.

In her opinion, the only thing that the titles of _girlfriend_ and _boyfriend_ provide is a sort of… legitimacy and clarity to the nature of their relationship.

Unfortunately, those titles have also notified _everyone she knows_ of the nature of their relationship. Or maybe it was when she kissed him during the Daily Planet New Year's Party, thus causing all her co-workers to freeze and stare in astonishment. Evidently the idea of Lois and Clark as a couple is completely unfathomable to just about every member of the human race.

"Calm down, Lois. You're not married to him, or anything. I'm just trying to figure it out. I mean, is it a _dominance_ thing? Clark is pretty passive, I guess, and you're pretty demanding, so that would make sense. Or is he a really good listener? I know how much you like to talk-"

"Not as much as you, apparently," Lois retorts with another eye roll. "Listen… there's just a compatibility, I guess. And I'm not about to explain it to you."

"Okay, fine - there's _compatibility_, whatever that means. But what is so darn special about _Clark Kent_ that puts him above all the other guys you've met?" Jimmy insists.

Internally, she thinks about the way Clark listens to her when she speaks, hanging onto every word. Respect for her is certainly a significant factor. And then there's the fact that he's a _genuinely good person_ \- maybe one of the few she has ever met. His selflessness, coupled with intelligence and good humor, just makes Lois grateful to know him, and even more grateful to be spending time with him the way she is now.

(And, of course, she feels obligated to mention that, under the disguise that he wears, Clark is actually gorgeous and super-powered. But, unfortunately, she most definitely cannot tell Jimmy that - even if it means shutting him up.)

"We… work well together," is the answer she decides on. Then, she finishes off her burger and throws the wrappings in the trash can. "How much is the pool now, by the way?"

Jimmy looks startled. "The… what? Like-like a swimming pool? I have absolutely, positively _no idea _what you're talking about."

"The _betting _pool. I know that everyone's wagering on how long - or more likely, how short - Clark and I will last. So how much is it?"

He hesitates before he answers: "Five thousand."

"_Christ_," she exclaims. "What, did everyone in the _building_ place a wager?"

"Close to everyone, I'm pretty sure."

"And what's the most popular prediction?" she asks out of morbid curiosity, a degree of irritation in her voice.

"Two more days, I think. But my bet goes till next week - don't you worry, I've got faith in you two. Perry's the one who has the longest wager, though. And Cat lost last week, so you totally proved her wrong."

Lois shakes her head and groans. "You're all crazy."

"Hey, I need that money bad. So… even if you guys wanna _pretend_ to break up next week, you'd be doing me a real solid-" Jimmy explains, but Lois interrupts him.

"Why don't you earn your paycheck instead, and actually upload your damn photos to the server."

"But-"

"Now," she says sternly.

After that, Jimmy stands from his seat near Lois's desk, taking his unfinished burger with him as he exits the room with a sigh.

Nearly as soon as he leaves and Lois resumes spell-checking her latest articles, she hears a knock on her office door. Clark is standing in the threshold expectantly, holding two steaming cups in his hand. "Mind if I come in?" he asks.

"Not at all," she replies. "But close the door behind you - and the blinds on the door's little window too. I think our co-workers have adopted the hobby of watching us."

He does as she suggests and comes to sit across from her at her desk. The smell of fresh coffee hits her nose as he pushes one of the cups toward her, and they engage in the traditional _thank you_ and _you're welcome_.

"It's nice to know that they all think so much of me," Clark then remarks sarcastically, suggesting that he heard her conversation with Jimmy. "Though it might have something to do with my _falling_ all over the place."

She glances up at him with a smirk, moving her eyes from the typo she just crossed out with a red pen. "Did you trip on the way to the elevator, like we talked about?"

"Yup," he says, taking a pointed sip of his cup of what must be hot chocolate. "Lombard was laughing his head off."

"He's an asshole - just ignore him. This is important, though. The more you act clumsy, the less people will suspect you of being… you know. It's one more layer of disguise - like the glasses and the suits and the hats."

"Still pretty humiliating, though," he tells her bitterly.

Lois leans forward and pulls him toward her by his tie. Their lips meet above her desk, and she can taste the hot chocolate in the kiss.

"Does that heal your wounded pride a bit?" she asks jokingly as she pulls away slightly, their faces lingering close together.

"Maybe a little," he breathes, his eyes half-lidded. And then there's that contagious smile of his, playing at his lips. "Also - I can see from here - you spelled _simultaneously_ wrong. It's s-i-m-u-l-t-a-n-e-o-u-s-l-y."

She snatches up her paper and examines it closely, trying to locate the word in question. He is right, of course - it _is_ spelled incorrectly. Instead of the accurate spelling, she wrote it as _simaultenously_ \- a pretty close variation, by her standards. It's a pretty tough word, in her opinion, so the mistake isn't something she's particularly embarrassed about.

"Let me guess," she begins as she crosses that out as well, "You won the Smallville spelling bee, am I right?"

He chuckles but makes no attempt to deny it.

* * *

"You good?" Clark yells over the roar of the wind, his voice nearly getting lost in the midnight air. "Not too cold or anything?"

Lois is floating above the city, wrapped in two coats, a sweater, and most importantly, Clark's warm arms. It's somewhat odd, standing upright like this, her weight on his toes as they are both suspended in midair, hanging like pieces of a mobile above a glowing, thriving crib - Metropolis.

"Would you quit worrying about me?" she yells back, glancing down by her feet, where she can see the tops of the shimmering skyscrapers below her. They are surrounded by the clouds, which reflect oddly in the moonlight, like blobs of light blue in a sea of navy. And then there are the stars - infinite in number, and visible at this altitude on all sides, despite the light pollution. "I wouldn't miss this view for the world."

"A view of my feet? Not my best feature, to be honest," she hears him say as the wind dies down a bit.

Lois looks up and smirks at him. "I'd have to agree with you there. And you have pretty great feet, if I may say so… "

"What exactly are you implying, Miss Lane?" he asks playfully, his eyebrow raised. "I think I missed your meaning."

"Well, _Superman_," she begins, pressing herself closer to that red, blue, and yellow suit of his, and reveling in the heat radiating from it, "let's just say you have a wide variety of _amazing_ physical features."

"This is supposed to be _romantic_, you know. Not dirty. Here, I'll show you how it's done." He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice is exaggeratedly proper. "You look _beautiful _in the moonlight, Miss Lane."

She snorts. "Stop it - you sound ridiculous."

"It _is_ the truth, though."

"Oh shut up. And I wasn't being _dirty, _okay? I could've been talking about your eyes, for all you know."

"I'm _sure_."

"Fine - I'll be old-timey romantic, if that's what you really want. _Ahem_ \- here goes…" Lois pauses for effect. "That cape is simply _splendid_, Mr. Kent. Or Mr. Superman… whatever."

He scoffs and tightens his arms around her waist, warming her as the wind picks up once more. In order for his voice to be audible, he drastically increases his volume to its previous loudness. "Though it _is_ a really great cape… I wouldn't exactly call that _romantic_!"

"What can I say? I'm not great at old-fashioned romance!" she hollers back. Her own arms are draped around his neck, holding her upright. The stance allows her to look at his face clearly, which is grinning widely as his cape blows around them, its flapping making it reminiscent of giant red wings.

"It's okay, I suppose! I still love you despite that flaw!"

She laughs. "I love you too, you big doofus! And I wouldn't exactly call that a flaw! "

They are staring at each other now, in the sort of intense silence that always precedes a kiss. It's almost subconscious, the way they lean toward each other, eyes closing and icy breath catching…

When the moon becomes covered by clouds, and those clouds begin releasing a blanket of snow, Lois starts to shiver a bit. The reaction might be to the kiss or it might be to the cold - she doesn't really know. But he brings her down to her apartment building regardless of either cause, and they immediately head to bed.

_It's one hell of a way to spend almost every night_, Lois thinks as she is about to fall asleep, with Clark laying beside her. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of it.

The one things she _might_ get tired of… is Clark disappearing halfway through the night to put out a fire in another part of the city. She's happy that he did, of course, but what can she say? She's sure that she'll be spending a lot of time sharing _Superman_ with the world, even though she'd like to get through a night with her boyfriend, _Clark Kent_.

Plus, he comes back to bed smelling like smoke, which is something that she could live without.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: Sorry I'm so late on this. Usually, I stay up on Friday night until midnight so I can post right away on Saturday. But I've been insanely busy this week and this weekend thus far. I'm a competitive debater, and I had a tournament today, so I was totally unable to access my phone or computer. My apologies. I hope the fluff made up for it?**

**Anyway, I'm really exhausted and gonna head to bed. Hope you enjoyed! Please review! **


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight - Truth

_CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - TRUTH_

"It's weird, don't you think?" Clark says the next afternoon, over dinner in his apartment. "All the attacks with those weapons… they've just stopped. Completely."

Lois twists her fork in between her fingers. "Weird… but _good_. I mean, the city's a million times safer without them."

"I guess… but it's like the person making them _suddenly_ stopped distributing. I want to know why."

"Maybe they gave up," Lois offers. "I mean, you did _best_ every weapon he or she pitted against you. Probably wasn't worth the cost to continue making them if they were bound to fail."

He stares intently at his plate, contemplating her words. "It seems that they disappeared when Michael Polk was arrested. Do you think he has something to do with it?"

Lois shakes her head. "I don't think he has the scientific knowledge to create guns like that. Or learn about the Kryptonite."

"Well… maybe Polk knows something, and the maker is lying low in anticipation of him revealing his identity," he suggests, beginning to eat again.

"You're thinking Lex, aren't you?" Lois says after swallowing her own bite of food. "You think that when Polk squeals, it's gonna be Lex's name."

"Yes. I do," Clark declares confidently "He's still the only realistic suspect. And if the police prove it… well, we won't even need to write that article anymore, will we? He'll finally be brought to justice."

And as enticing as that possibility sounds to Lois, she still can't shake the feeling that Lex is not to blame for these particular disasters. Why would he build half the city, only to destroy it by placing lethal weapons in the hands of maniacs? Why would he crash his own charity gala, thus endangering the lives of his investors and trusted customers? Lex may do a lot of terrible things… but she doubts he would ruin his own reputation and legacy so nonchalantly.

But then again… is it possible that he harbors a strong enough hatred for Superman that he is willing to go to such extreme lengths? She would not put it beyond him. Not at all.

But the feeling in her gut is persistent, and it's telling her that something's missing.

What is that Perry is always telling her? Oh yeah… "_In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled_."

It's some Paul Eldridge quote that Perry ran into the ground years ago, but it comes back to her now in her hesitation to accuse a man that she knows she hates. She feels like the web of facts is spelling out Lex's name, but there's another name, hidden in the details, strangled by two particular facts - that she has a personal vendetta against Lex, and that Clark does too.

But maybe she's wrong. Maybe it's just a dumb quote. Most of the time, Occam's razor rings absolutely true in the journalism field, and it maintains the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. And Lex _is_ the simplest answer.

Suddenly, her train of thought is interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing loudly. When she looks at the caller ID, she sees that is Professor Hamilton, so she immediately answers it.

"Hello?" she greets. She sees that Clark is obviously straining his ears to listen.

"_Miss Lane - you'll never believe the news!" _Emil exclaims excitedly over the line, "_I think I've found a connection to Lexcorp in one of the guns that Superman asked me to study."_

Lois's eyes widen, incredulous that her doubts are being resolved so quickly. "Oh. Wow. That's fantastic. Do you need me to get pen and paper so I can take down the story-"

"_Not yet. The connection - the component that I found in the Lexcorp databases - is intricately connected with the rest of the device. In order to get it out, I think I'm going to need Superman's precision." _

Lois glances at Clark, who nods seriously, indicating that he has heard Emil's request and is agreeing to it.

"I think I can get him to come," Lois tells the professor. "When should we meet you?"

"_Tonight, at midnight in my lab. The building should be mostly empty by then, so hopefully Lex won't realize what we've found until too late_."

"Sounds like a plan. Thank you so much, Emil."

"_Don't thank me yet! Not till we have the component!_" he tells her. Then, he hangs up.

* * *

The skylight to Emil's lab is already open when they arrive there, and Clark - Superman - carries Lois inside. The professor is by his microscope, waiting anxiously for them, and he immediately stands once Superman sets her on the ground.

"Good! You came!" Emil says.

"Of course I did," Superman responds with a smile. "If it means putting an end to all this insanity, and helping a friend like you, professor, then it's no problem at all. Miss Lane told me all about what you've discovered.

_Not really,_ Lois thinks. _You heard it yourself, actually._

Now Lois really is in on Clark's lie, isn't she? It feels strange, lying to people so deliberately like this. But it's certainly not her secret to tell, and if anything, telling it is far more dangerous than failing to do so. So maybe she will have to make Clark the exception in her devotion to absolute truth.

"Excellent. The gun is right over here-" Emil tells them, gesturing toward a nearby table.

She immediately recognizes the weapon. It's the electrical rifle that Superman confiscated from the bank robber - the one televised live all over Metropolis, if not the world. She remembers how much sheer destruction it caused - the whole street was decimated, and people were terribly injured…

God, she hopes they can end the creation of the weapons, now and forever, with whatever Emil has found.

Superman approaches the table, asking, "What do you need me to do?"

Emil guides him closer to the weapon and points to a particular point on it surface. "See this panel? There's a microchip under it that's _exclusively_ produced by Lexcorp. I was able to find it with a full-spectrum scan. "

Clark nods, confirming its existence. "Yes. I see it."

"Well… unfortunately, I can't pull it out without ruining it. I was thinking that perhaps you could use your heat vision to cut it away, like a laser," Emil suggests, pointing toward the gun again. "But you'll have to be extremely careful."

"I understand, professor. I'll begin right away," Superman assures him, and sure enough, Lois can soon see concentrated, red light shooting out of his eyes, focusing on the gun's surface. The acrid smell of melting metal fills the room as a result.

Lois sits on the sidelines, watching Clark carry out the careful process with Emil continuing to guide him from over his shoulder.

It seems like it's working - like they really will catch Lex red-handed. Is it possible that in a few days, he'll be behind bars, after _months_ of fruitless work? The idea seems like a dream.

But then she sees something… odd. Emil is reaching very slowly inside the pocket of his lab coat. At first, she thinks he's just resting his unused hand there, but such is not ultimately the case. There's something in his hand when he pulls it back out again - something small, metallic, and with a faint green glow…

Lois is about to yell out, realizing that something is wrong, when Professor Hamilton plunges the object into Superman's neck. And to her complete astonishment… it sinks easily into his skin. His _impervious_ skin.

Superman cries out in pain and instantly sinks to his knees, the object - which is now easily identifiable as a hypodermic needle - still stuck in his neck. "What did you… what did you do to me?" she hears him mumble, his voice feeble and weak. His heat vision has already faded from his eyes, which are blinking heavily, like he is struggling to stay awake.

Lois runs toward him, pushing the professor as far away as she can. Behind her, she hears the sound of Emil falling to the ground, but she doesn't care. Because right now, all she can think about is _Clark_ \- who may very well be dying before her eyes. In any case, he is seriously injured, and she needs to _help _him.

As she reaches him, it's obvious that he is losing consciousness. She drops to her knees, catching and cradling his head in her arms as it droops backwards toward the floor. His body is totally limp, his skin is clammy and warm, like he has a fever, and his eyes are shut tight.

"Superman!" she yells, shaking him fiercely in the hope of waking him. "Superman, please!"

"Come now, Miss Lane, you _must_ realize that's useless," she hears Emil say from behind her.

She turns her head to look at him, and sees that he is struggling to his feet with a rather irritated expression on his face.

"What have you _done_?" she demands incredulously. "Why would you-"

And then it all clicks in Lois's mind, as she holds Clark's unconscious body. The web of facts unravels, the truth is freed from the suffocation of obscurity, and for the first time, that truth breathes deeply.

God… It was Professor Hamilton the whole time. How could she have been so dumb? He knew - _studied _\- Superman's weaknesses. And with that knowledge… he must have easily designed the weapons meant to take Superman down, probably using his expertise from his time working at Dayton Industries.

They've been blinded by trust for Emil, and distrust for Lex. And now they're paying deeply for it.

"You're the arms dealer," she realizes numbly. "You always have been. You've been trying to kill him."

She sees Emil roll his eyes. "Please. If I wanted to kill him, I would've. He's alive right now, isn't he?"

Lois glances at Clark to verify this, and finds that he is still breathing. But she is still panicking… still worried… so she pulls the needle out his neck and feels for his pulse. She's relieved to find it beating steadily under her trembling fingertips.

But her relief is small - because they're still in big, _big_ trouble.

"Yes. You can come inside now," Emil says from behind her, and for a moment, Lois thinks he is talking to her. But upon looking at him, she realizes otherwise. He is speaking into some sort of earpiece with complete and utter nonchalance - like he didn't just inject Superman with… something. Something dangerous.

Suddenly, four people burst into the lab from a pair of side doors, causing Lois to jump and instinctively move to shield Clark from view, even though the latter part is somewhat difficult - Clark is so much larger than she is.

The interlopers - men that are approximately the same size as Clark - are all armed with guns with suppressors. Their gaze immediately lands on Lois and Superman with a sort of laser-like, ominous intensity. As she examines them in turn, she notes that they don't exactly look like typical street criminals - they're all in suits, with body-builder level bulk, and stand with a sort of erectness that suggests something vaguely military about their past.

_Mercenaries_, she realizes. Hired guns tasked with… doing what? What exactly is Emil planning to do to Clark if he doesn't want to kill him?

"I'm sure your mind is positively swimming with panicked, confused thoughts," the professor remarks, approaching her with his hands tucked behind his back. "The most prominent one: whether Superman is alright."

She feels like she should say something - something biting that expresses how betrayed she feels - but her throat has gone dry as she stares at the guns in those men's hands. It's very likely that, in a few moments, she will be dead. She knows quite a bit about how bullets feel when they tear through you. It'd be a total lie to say she's ready to experience such a sensation again.

The Professor continues to speak unimpeded. "I assure you, he is. I've only injected him with a sedative, laced with traces of kryptonite to ensure its efficacy. Normally, his body rejects all drugs, bacteria, and viruses, but I used just enough of the green rock to bypass that ability without actually harming him."

So Clark really is _just_ unconscious - not dying or wounded - placed in some sort of artificial coma by a strong sedative.

"But… why?" Lois cries. "You were… you were supposed to be _helping_ us. I _trusted_ you."

"And I'm certainly glad you did. Do you know how grateful I am to you, Miss Lane? If it wasn't for you, bringing him to me, I would have never been presented with this fantastic opportunity."

"To do what?" she demands, trying to ignore the sickened feeling in her stomach. This is _her fault_, Lois realizes. If she hadn't convinced Superman to explore his powers… his weaknesses… Emil would have never gotten so close to him… close enough to make him vulnerable.

"As despicable as it sounds… to make a proper fortune," Emil tells her somewhat embarrassedly before gesturing to Superman's body. "Do you know how much governments, scientific organizations, private collectors, or other very affluent individuals will pay for him? Millions. _Billions_."

"He's a _person_!" she protests. Internally, her heart wrenches. She _loves_ him. And if what Emil is saying is true, then she is probably going to lose him forever.

"He's a _rare commodity_, Miss Lane - as a living weapon, or as a living biological sample. Imagine an army of cloned Supermen, or a serum derived from his cells that provides invincibility. And even if those endeavors fail… then _he_ could always be an army in himself, can't he? How much would your dear father pay for that, do you think? To have his armies led by Superman, a being untouchable by even _atomic bombs_. Of course… Superman would need a little _reprogramming_, but that should prove easy with adequate effort."

It feels like the ground is falling out from under her. It's unbelievable - how badly she has screwed up. She has ruined Clark's life… all to satisfy curiosity. All those times he felt afraid around this lab, despite Lois's attempts to relieve his fears, were absolutely correct. Now Clark _will_ live out his days in some sort of cell, being experimented on. The thought terrifies her.

"Screw you," Lois snarls. "That will never happen. You know he'll escape."

Emil reaches for something on the nearby countertop, which is a little box that she recognizes as being made of lead. The lead box that held the kryptonite.

"No, he won't. Not with this around. Whoever purchases him… will get full knowledge and access to his weaknesses, courtesy of my research. It's why I plan to make the price tag so high. He'll become a weapon with only one off switch - an off-switch in the hands of those who own him."

She eyes the little box - the box filled with something that could so easily kill the man she loves. "I don't understand… where did you even _get_ the kryptonite? I doubt you got it from Krypton yourself."

Emil chuckles. "I may be a genius, Miss Lane, but locating Superman's home planet without proper data is beyond even _my_ abilities. But the kryptonite… the kryptonite was a convenient connection I shared with him.

"Years ago, I was hired by the government to investigate a meteor shower in the midwest - some small, insignificant town in Kansas. Thousands of these green rocks were all over the place, littering the ground, before they were carted away to be studied by individuals such as myself. They're essentially harmless and useless to human beings, which is why I was allowed to keep such a large quantity for personal research. It took me a long time to mathematically track their trajectory to their point of origin, which I later learned was Superman's home planet.

"Imagine how surprised I was to find that Superman shares a similar chemical makeup with the rocks, thus revealing where he originated from. And imagine how even _more_ surprised I was to see that, when I placed the rocks near a sample of Superman's cells, those cells began to rapidly deteriorate. It is, for all intensive purposes, his Achilles heel - his one true, lethal vulnerability. All I needed to prove it was a proper test, which the charity gala readily provided."

Lois feels like crying, or screaming. There is no action that could possibly display the level of horror she is experiencing right now. "And the guns? The attacks? The _bounty?"_

Emil shrugs. "Every weapon needs to be properly tested to demonstrate its capabilities - even Superman. The whole world watched as he took down even the most advanced devices with his bare hands, and every time he did, his price went up. The bounty, which was a down payment by a particularly eager potential customer, purely incentified those idiotic criminals to attack him. They didn't consider that they were fighting a _god._"

"People _died_ because of you, Emil," she asserts angrily. "You destroyed lives. Years ago, you told me you were done creating weapons… done hurting people with your intelligence."

"A stupid resolution, to be honest - though it did gain me international recognition and awards, for all that is worth - which isn't very much. Of course, my previous profession provided even fewer benefits. The fact is that, after I deliver Superman to the proper customer, I _will_ be done. Done struggling for money and grants and respect."

"You selfish piece of _garbage_! And what's worse… I was under the impression that you were _somehow_ a good person. Someone I could rely on," Lois spits. "But you're just a self-serving monster."

"Come now. I'm not… _diabolical_ or anything of the sort. Nothing I did was meant to be cruel. All I want… is to get what I deserve for my hard work - other than _more _work. I want a full bank account. I want contentment. I deserve _happiness_, and if this is what I must do to receive that, then so be it. I'm only human, after all, so good and evil are all relative. Besides… scientifically, the 'greater good' is ensuring the perpetual well-being of the intellectually superior members of the species, such as myself."

Lois can't help thinking about how similar he is to Lex - how he justifies actions almost robotically, accounting for facts without feeling or emotion. It goes against everything she has come to believe in.

One of the mercenaries then steps forward, raising his gun. "Move away from the alien," he orders sternly and impatiently.

Lois doesn't budge. She'll die before they left them take Clark.

"Don't make me ask again."

"Not to be _particularly_ cliche," she says slowly as she shoots him the middle finger, "but over my cold, dead body."

The mercenary's face becomes irate, and his hand seems to twitch toward the trigger. Lois braces for death-

But then Emil makes a strangled noise, and no bullet comes.

"Not here!" he insists fervently. "You know who she is - everyone does! And when they find out that something happened to her, there _will_ be a huge investigation - one that will lead the police to Star Labs. The last thing I need… is to be found with her DNA _exploded_ all over my work space.

The mercenary sets his jaw with irritation. "So what do we do? We can't leave her alive. She'll tell everyone what she saw."

The professor considers this for a moment. Eventually, he decides on a solution and orders, "Knock her out. Load her in the truck with Superman. I'll tell you what to do from there."

The mercenary nods and begins to approach her.

The needle - the one that Emil used on Clark - is still in Lois's hand. She waits… waits until the mercenary is close enough for her to reach his feet.

Once the mercenary steps within proximity, Lois stabs the needle downwards into his shoe, allowing the point to pierce deeply into his foot. The man cries out loudly, grabbing his toes and shrieking in pain, obviously distracted. It's her only opportunity to get a gun - one that she can possibly use to save both herself and Clark - so she takes it.

Lois jumps to her feet, but only for a brief time. It is not long until she full-on tackles the man while he panics, thus pushing him to the ground. She manages to get a few good punches toward his nose as they wrestle for the gun, but finally, with a hard knee into his gut, Lois rips the weapon from his grasp.

She is just about to stand up and aim the gun at the other men, but before she can, something hard and blunt hits her in the back of the head. Her vision immediately goes black.

* * *

Her head is throbbing. Throbbing like her heart has suddenly taken up residence inside her skull, and there's inadequate space for it, so it presses painfully against her brain and the sides of her cranium. She's not sure if her head has ever hurt so badly before. If it has, she can't remember.

But _why_ does her head hurt? She can't remember that either. Something must have happened - something important and _bad_. Lois was… was at a lab… with Clark. Yes, she remembers that. She remembers Clark carrying her inside, Clark smiling and saying something to Professor Hamilton…

And the professor… he… the professor _betrayed_ them. He injected Clark with something that hurt him… made him go unconscious. He was… he was going to take Clark somewhere… have him turned into some sort of living weapon…she can't let it happen…

Panic floods her mind, and with it, comes adrenaline. Her heavy eyelids shoot open, driven by some sort of animal instinct to _find Clark_.

Her vision is blurry at first. She's inside something that looks… metallic. Metallic and cubelike. And the floor seems to be vibrating beneath her, bumping against something below. Where is she? In the back of some sort of truck? Yes… she thinks Emil mentioned a truck.

A few moments later, her vision corrects even more, and she realizes that something is in front of her, just out reach. It seems to be some sort of case - one reminiscent of casket or a sarcophagus, but perhaps it is more modern and high-tech looking, given its variety of switches and levers. Its top part is made of glass, and its bottom is made of a heavy metal with some sort of locking mechanism. Unfortunately, right now, her mind is completely unable to process what it could be.

So she squints - squints until her eyes completely focus. Soon she realizes that there's someone _inside the case, _lying still as a corpse. The person's face is visible under the glass, and she recognizes it immediately. The black spit-curled hair, the noble features, the lips that she has kissed so many times - she's familiar with every aspect of it. It's _Clark_'s face, still completely unconscious.

A translucent mask has been put over his mouth and nose, like some sort of breathing apparatus. Tubing connects it to some sort of cylindrical tank that hangs on the outside of the holding device. Lois figures that they're pumping a sedative gas into his system to keep him unconscious, and there's little doubt in her mind that the gas is laced with kryptonite. Every time he takes a shaky breath, she can see green condensation on the mask, like little drops of liquid radiation.

It strikes her that they're literally feeding _poison_ into his body - a poison that, according to Clark's personal accounts, makes him feel like his blood is boiling.

"Oh no," she murmurs, fighting the distinct need to vomit. Whether that need is caused by looking at Clark trapped like that, or her recent blow to the head, she doesn't know. All she knows is that Emil has been planning this for so long - maybe since she first brought Superman to meet him. He's thought of everything - and by the looks of that holding device, he seems to have a decent handle on how to trap Superman indefinitely. There is little doubt in her mind that Emil himself created it… crafted it to play to Superman's weaknesses. If Superman isn't conscious, then he can't escape - especially if no one but Lois knows what happened to him.

She tries to lunge forward, intending to help and free Clark, but something pulls her back and nearly breaks her wrist. A glance behind her reveals that she has been handcuffed to a metal bar in the truck, thus keeping her in place.

She struggles with the handcuffs for a while, trying to worm her way out of them. But the sound of Clark's ragged breaths keep distracting her, filling her with despair. She _can't_ reach him. God…he's suffering, and she'll probably be killed any minute now, and she _can't_ reach him.

Lois blinks tears out her vision and chokes down a scream of frustration. Internally, she curses whatever superior being that let her survive that day in Qurac. Why did it do such a thing, if she is going to die here? Did it want to expose her to happiness, only to suddenly rip it away in the most horrific way possible? Clark would probably have been better off if she had never lived past that bullet wound.

She hears the squeal of wheels skidding to a stop. The truck has ceased moving.

Lois blinks more tears out of her eyes, knowing what this means. She raises her head and speaks urgently to Clark, willing him to hear her.

"I'm _so_ sorry," she tells him with a cracking voice. "I _never_ thought that this would happen. If I had, I would've… I would've done _something_."

A sob escapes from her mouth, but she desperately silences it - there's no time for that right now. So she continues speaking around the thick lump her in throat. "I really love you, okay? You're the first guy I ever really loved, but I screwed it up, and I swear, I would give anything to ch-"

The back doors of the truck suddenly swing open, revealing the mercenaries and Professor Hamilton standing stiffly on the slick pavement. Behind them is Hob's Bay, glittering coldly as it reflects the light of the nearby city.

"-boat's standing by. We better take care of this quick so we can get into international waters," a mercenary says.

"I want it to be sloppy," she hears Emil request. "Make it look like a mugging gone wrong - that way, when they do find her, they won't have anyone to blame but a faceless stranger."

Lois takes one last look at Clark. She's so scared for him - maybe more fearful than she's ever been. But she's not sure that she's all that afraid of death for _herself_ anymore. There have been so many times by now - so many times she has almost died, starting with that day in Qurac. A lot of those times, he has been there to save her. But not now. Not anymore. And maybe this is fate _finally_ righting itself, after he interfered with her destiny by saving her. Now she's finally going to die.

One of the mercenaries - the one she stabbed with a needle - limps over to her and unlocks the handcuffs from the bar, but keeps her tightly held in his grip. He's not planning on letting his guard down this time.

He pulls her roughly toward the side of the road, which drops off into the bay. She glances over the side at the black, still water, which glints ominously up at her.

The temperature is so cold that she can see her breath in the air. She remembers flying with Clark in weather like this… remembers the heat of his lips on her own…

She stands as tall as she can as another mercenary raises his suppressed gun. It is aimed at her head, and Lois makes peace with the fact that she is going to die. There's no escaping this situation… no bulletproof savior to block what's going to kill her in a few moments.

The man begins to pull on the trigger. Lois closes her eyes, hoping it will not be painful - like the last bullet.

"I said _sloppy_," Emil reminds them all of a sudden.

When Lois squints her left eye open for a moment, she sees the mercenary shift the gun towards toward her chest. There is a short cracking sound, and the sensation that she has been hit by something with the concentrated force of a car. Soon she is falling backwards toward the water, completely incapacitated by pain. Her body crashes into Hob's Bay with a loud splash, but there is no one around to hear it - no one but the men who put her there.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: I swear there is more to this story. That's a horrible cliff-hanger, I know. But fear not! The show will go on. You'll just have to wait till next week.**

**Please don't hate me. **

**All fluff (like the last chapter) comes at a price. **

**Alrighty, that's it for now, unfortunately! I haven't been able to work on the sequel much. I've had lots of schoolwork. But I'm hoping to get back to it next week. **

**Review? (As long as you're not yelling at me)**


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine - Rescue

_CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - RESCUE_

The water is colder than anything Lois has ever felt. It drives into her skin like metal daggers, fills her lungs with pure ice, and numbs her every nerve. Of course, no amount of numbing could suppress the pain in her chest - the aching pain of the bullet. It paralyzes her completely, making her unable to swim or tread water properly.

Eventually, when she comes to her senses and fights through the paralysis, she begins thrashing against the water, splashing fruitlessly as she still sinks downwards. And throughout it all, she can't _breathe_. She is _suffocating_ and _dying_ and perhaps bleeding internally.

Despite her own pain and predicament, she keeps thinking about Clark. Emil and the others have probably driven off with him by now, preparing to take him to whatever sick auction the professor is planning on holding.

Thus, with every breath of frigid water, she sees Clark's face - flashes of the times he has smiled or laughed at her, intermittently interrupted by the image of him sickly and unconscious in that holding device… it makes her heart heavy, and internally, she swears that the weight is sinking her faster.

More than anything, she wants to _scream_, but she knows that will only let more water in, and drown her faster.

And she _can't_ _die_. Not now. Somehow, thankfully, the bullet didn't kill her - just like the bullet in Qurac failed to meet its true mark. The mercenary changed his mind at the last second, much to her surprise. Instead of going for the sure kill - the head-shot that most mercenaries prefer - he shot her in the chest, where she was protected by the bulletproof vest, which she had worn simply out of habit and paranoia. And despite the _enormous_ pain the impact of the bullet caused, it did not actually cut her skin, or rupture her heart.

Unconscious and helpless, and Clark is _still_ saving her life. If he hadn't gotten her into the habit of wearing that vest…

But she's _alive_… and dying. Thrashing fiercely but quickly weakening. There's not much time left - to save herself or to rescue Clark. Nobody knows that he's been taken… she has to at least survive to _tell _someone.

_Please_, she prays. _Just let me live a little longer. That's it. I'm not asking for much here. A few more minutes… a telephone… some air… that's all I need. _

But then a hand is reaching into the water, answering those prayers. It closes around her arm, and with extreme force, it hauls her thrashing body out of the water.

Her skin is still very numb when she lands onto a deck of wood, sopping wet and absolutely freezing. Immediately, she begins to cough up the water contained in her lungs. It's a horrible sensation, especially with her chest already so bruised, made all the worse by the cutting temperature of the water.

But obviously she needs to _breathe_, so she continues coughing until her lungs are empty of everything but _air_. Sweet precious air - the kind she never thought she'd breathe again.

"You alrigh', ma'am?" she hears someone say in a deep voice, marked by a thick Metropolis accent - one typical of someone down by the docks.

Lois's head snaps up, and she is greeted by the sight of a somewhat grubby looking man with a bulging belly and stubbled chin. His face looks weather-battered and rather grouchy, and one of his eyes is perpetually half-closed. Clothes-wise, he seems to be sporting some sort of fisherman-esque coogan cap, and a heavy navy coat. She doesn't recognize him in the least.

She looks around, and sees that she is on some sort of floating pier. Somehow, in her thrashing, she probably managed to make her way over here, where someone saw and saved her. It's a miracle, by all standards. Evidently, someone is _still_ on her side in the destiny department.

"No, I'm not," she finally chokes out from her spot on all fours, her throat sore from all the coughing, and her chest protesting every word. "Someone just tried to kill me, and they've kidnapped someone else. I need to call the police. I n-need to s-stop-"

Lois cannot finish her sentence as she starts to shiver uncontrollably, and the man helps her to her feet.

"Er… ma'am? That water's freezin'. You've likely got da hippotermia."

"H-hypothermia, y-you m-mean?" she chatters, trying to rub feeling back into her hands.

"Yeah - that. You be needin' some heat, otherwise you'll-"

"D-die?" she finishes for him, almost amused by the thought. "A-at this p-point, I'm s-starting to t-think d-dying is a m-myth."

"Uh… if you say so, miss. If ya want, my bar's right o'er there." He points to a nearby building - one that's only a short walk from the floating pier, its front labeled as _the Ace O'Clubs_. "It's got a phone an'da heater. Don't want ya keeling o'er here."

"Y-yes, that'd b-be g-great. T-thank you… uh… w-what's your n-name?"

"Bibbo, ma'am," he says as he begins to walk her toward his bar, fully supporting her weight so she doesn't have to. "Bibbo Bibbowski."

"M-my name's L-Lois Lane," she tells him. "Thanks for s-saving my l-life."

"I wuz just lookin at da Bay when you-" Bibbo interrupts his own sentence by gasping. "Lois Lane? Da same Lois Lane that knows _Superman_? He's my _hero_, Superman is."

Lois nods, suddenly feeling even colder, if that's even possible. And as they continue walking forward, she whispers, "Y-yeah. He's my h-hero t-too."

* * *

Soon enough, she is inside Bibbo's bar, changed into some of his clothes, wrapped in several musty blankets, and huddling close to a radiator. There's a cup of warm coffee clutched in one hand, warming it, and a phone in the other, which she struggles to dial with her trembling fingers. Bibbo was kind enough to provide all of those things. She thinks she'll have to add him to her depressingly short list of good-hearted people. Maybe he'll replace Emil, since the professor obviously has proven himself to be _anything_ but good-hearted.

After the numbers 9-1-1 are punched in, she presses the phone to her ear. Her heart is hammering against her chest, filled with fear and nervousness. Has Emil already left with Clark? Is she too late?

"_9-1-1, what is your emergency_?" someone says on the other line.

"I need you to put me through to Captain Maggie Sawyer," she orders, glad that her teeth have finally stopped chattering.

"_What is your emergency_?" the person repeats with impatience.

"This is _Lois Lane _speaking, you jerk," she yells into the phone. "And this is a _life-or-death_ situation I'm dealing with here. Someone just tried to kill me, and Maggie's the only one who can help me. So put me _the hell_ through to her."

The person on the other end hesitates audibly, but after a few seconds and the sounds of muffled yelling, someone else answers the phone.

"_Lois? What's wrong?_" Maggie asks urgently, immediately getting down to business.

Lois tries to ignore the fact that Bibbo is not-so-discreetly eavesdropping on her conversation from the bar. "Listen… Superman's in trouble. Professor Emil Hamilton - the scientist he's been meeting with - well, it turns out that Hamilton was the anonymous arms dealer tearing up Metropolis."

"_He's a Nobel Laureate,_ _Lois_. _You've gotta be joking. _"

"I'm not," she snarls. "And you wanna know how I know? Because he just had me _shot_ and dropped in Hob's Bay to die!"

"_Christ_… _Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?_"

"Not right now, I don't. The professor has kidnapped Superman, and he's planning on transporting him out of the city by boat, I think. At least that's what I heard them say. So you need to… mobilize a force or something. Keep the boat in the harbor until he can be rescued."

There is a pause on the other end, and when Maggie speaks, her voice is very apologetic. "_Lois… if you don't know which boat… then I can't help you. There are thousands of boats docked in the city, and any of them could be transporting him-_-"

Lois shakes her head fiercely. "No, no, no… it's probably in Hob's Bay. That's where they're heading, I'm pretty sure."

"_Okay, but there are hundreds of boats in Hob's Bay. Including illegal ones that we don't know about. You have to give me more than that_."

"I don't _have_ any more than that!" Lois cries, her voice heavy with despair. "_Please_, Maggie. You have to… you have to do _something_. He's in trouble and he needs help."

A brief silence ensues. And with that, she knows that Maggie truly will not be able to provide that help. In the Police Captain's eyes, the cause is already lost.

"_I can't even search Star Labs without a warrant, Lois. I think you're gonna have to trust Superman to get out of this on his own,_" Maggie tells her quietly. "_I'm sorry._"

Lois lets out a frustrated scream and hangs up the phone, throwing it into her own lap.

So that's everything, she supposes. That's all of her options. Clark - the man she loves - is as good as dead, and she'll have to live with the guilt of knowing that she's responsible for it for the rest of her life. There's simply nothing else she can do.

Of course… she's _lying_ to herself when she says that.

She has one more option left - one more life line. One that she swore she'd never use again. In fact, just _considering_ it goes against what she believes in - and what Clark has grown to believe in too - but what else can she do? She's not ready to lose him. Not so soon.

Lois closes her eyes and sighs. Using this option is like… is like making a deal with the devil.

But then again, Lois swore to devote her life to truth, not to morality, no matter how much they overlap. And she's not lying when she says that she'll do _anything_ to help Clark - even if it means crossing the moral line that Superman never even _touches_.

And lately, she's been learning that love is truly about compromise and sacrifice, not just happiness.

Gritting her teeth, she dials the number like someone setting the timer on a bomb. It's odd that she still knows it so well. Perhaps it is burned into her mind, like every other second of that day in Qurac when she called him.

And like on that day, Lex Luthor picks up her call on the second ring.

"_Lois_?" he drawls. "_Should I assume that this is a wrong number, or do you have a legitimate reason for calling me_?

She gulps. "I need your help."

It's like she can _feel_ him raising an eyebrow. "_Do you, now?_ _Why doesn't your new boyfriend help you?_"

"You… you know about that?" she flounders for a moment, but then regains her sense of purpose. "Look, that's not important right now. He can't help me - only you can."

His voice is filled with bitter amusement. "_And why should I? I could file a lawsuit against you, you know, Lois. I found your listening device on my suit_."

Oh God, that's not good. He's angry at her - very angry, which means that she's already failing miserably. Clark is _depending_ on her, and she's sitting here stammering like an idiot. She needs to pour on the compliments, the pleading for help, the implication that she needs Lex - maybe needs him enough to make him think she loves him.

Great… now she's sacrificing truth too. It scares her, the lengths she's going to.

"I'm sorry about that," she apologizes. "I thought you were the anonymous arms dealer. But I know better now - I was wrong. Someone I trusted had tricked me and he… he nearly had me killed."

"_What_?" Lex exclaims, his voice now concerned, which she considers a good sign. "_Who tried to have you killed_? _Are you alright?_"

"Hamilton. He shot me and dropped me in the bay. Luckily, I was wearing a bulletproof vest, and I'm recovering from hypothermia-"

"_I'll have his head_," Lex snarls, which is the exact reaction she wants - especially with what she is about to tell him.

She gulps again. "Listen to me - Hamilton has kidnapped Superman. He's planning some sort of auction where he's gonna… sell his alien physiology, I guess. We need to rescue him before-"

"_So this is about saving Superman, is it_?" Lex asks coldly. "_You know how I feel about that alien_. _Saving him is not on my agenda in the least._"

"Then put your feelings toward him aside," she urges him, "and imagine one of your competitors buying his DNA and selling it as _liquid gold_ in the weapons industry. Does that sound _good_ to you?"

"_Please. My competitors are bumbling idiots. They'd never figure out how his DNA works_."

Her tears are back, creeping their way to the edges of her vision. Maybe that's a good thing at the moment. The lump in her throat - the despair in her voice - may be the only thing that sells her pleas for help.

"Then put your feelings for _me_ at the forefront of your mind," she practically yells into the phone. "If you wanna get back in my good graces, this is how. One chance, Lex. One chance to show me who you really are, take it or leave it. You won't get another one."

He pauses on the other line, considering her words. Lois keeps going in the hopes of getting through to him.

"Lex - it's your hatred toward Superman or your love for me. It shouldn't be a hard choice," she reminds him.

Then, she hears Lex sigh. "_Tell me if I'm wrong, but it sounds like this deal does not ensure our future together."_

"No, it doesn't," Lois says honestly. "That's not how love works. But it does prove to me that maybe… _maybe_ you're capable of love."

"_And what makes you think I know where Hamilton is?_"

"Because you _built_ most of this city, Lex, and you're the smartest mind in Metropolis. That means that you know everything that goes on here, including who comes and who goes. And Hamilton is planning to _go_ by boat _tonight_… so something tells me that you know exactly what boat he's on."

There is silence on the other end again, but he returns with a somewhat reluctant answer. "_Come on, Lois. You know which boat he's on, with or without my help._ _Think. Hamilton would want to be on a boat that no one is looking for - and now no one is, thanks to your article."_

Lois's eyes widen, and she feels like smacking herself for not thinking of it earlier. "He's… he's on the S.S. Lemaris? The fishing boat from St. Martin's Island that went missing?"

"_There's a reason why the boat never came back to Metropolis - it never left the city in the first place. It's just been brought into a different port at Hob's Bay… somewhere that the port authority has been paid off to ignore_."

"Where?"

"_Somewhere near the recently shut-down Shuster Lighthouse, I believe. It's really no coincidence that it's been shut down, you know_. _Lots of nasty stuff occurs in that part of town. Stuff that no one would want to see_," he tells her casually. "_Oh… and one more thing. 3-1-0-8-6-5. Those are going to be your lucky numbers tonight. Just don't ask how I got them."_

"3-1-0-8… _what_? Lex, I'm not playing the lottery. I'm trying to save-"

"_I know exactly what you're trying to do. And you'll know soon enough why those numbers are significant. Regardless, I think thanks are in order on your part."_

Lois blinks, both con

* * *

fused by Lex's words and reeling in disbelief that this plan worked. "Thank you, Lex. Really. I owe you one."

"_Come now, Lois_," he replies half-mockingly. "_Owing_? _That's not how love works_."

Then, he hangs up, leaving Lois feeling vaguely like she should jump back into Hob's Bay and drown herself for what she just did. Because no matter what he says, no matter how much he claims this favor is out of love, she will _owe_ him. That's just the way Lex works - debts to him are always paid in full. And she shudders to think about how he might want to be repaid.

But she has more important matters to deal with - saving Clark, for instance. So she calls Maggie back up and tells her the new information, desperately hoping that she is not too late.

When she hangs up from her third call, Bibbo is staring at her with intense interest. She responds to the stare with a question. "You have a boat, Bibbo?"

He nods.

"Can I borrow it?"

"You gonna save Superman, Miss Lane?"

Lois nods. "I hope so."

Bibbo puffs out his chest and looks determined. "Then I'm gonna help ya. Jus' tell me where he is, and I'll bring ya there."

She smirks, glad that she has found a rival in her love for Superman. "Alright. Do you know where Shuster Lighthouse is?"

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: lol so i got yelled at last week**

**eh i understand. If I was reading this, I would be pretty crazed after that cliff-hangar. But for me, the real value of a relationship is found in the obstacles overcome in that relationship. So over the course of this series, I will continue to throw some occasionally heartbreaking curveballs at Lois and Clark. Sorry if that upsets some people, but quality story-telling (not that my work is quality) is supposed to hurt sometimes. **

**I introduced Bibbo...he's a lesser known Superman character, but I felt obligated to include him somehow. **

**And yikes! What about Lois's plea to Lex? **

**FUN FACT: in order to proofread my chapters, I have text-to-speech software read the chapters to me. Computers are weird, so the Siri voice always pronounces Emil as EMOO. No idea why.**

**See you next week for the last chapter of the book (though not really, because then there's a pretty long epilogue, and some bonus Clark POV). Review please? **


	31. Chapter Thirty - Hope

_CHAPTER THIRTY - HOPE_

Lois can't think of many situations where going on a midnight motor boat ride - in the middle of January, no less - is a _good_ idea. She can think of even fewer situations where someone should go on said boat ride after nearly dying of hypothermia.

Of course, in her mind, saving Clark is one of those rare situations.

So now she is sitting in the spray of icy bay water, holding onto the sides of a rickety motor boat that's probably moving _way_ faster than its antiquated engine can handle. Not that she's complaining, of course. She is thankful for any mode of transportation right now, and the faster they go, the better. Her only issue is the potential risk of the boat breaking down, leaving them stranded in the middle of the bay to freeze (or at least freeze more than she already has).

Maybe if she were smart, Lois would have stayed behind at the bar, waiting for the news of success or failure from Maggie, like the police captain ordered her to do. But it's simply not in Lois's nature to wait around, especially in a crisis such as this. Sometimes, the success of a rescue can depend on the aid of _one person_, as proven by her actions at the gala or against her father. If she ends up being that person, by some twist of fate, she wants to be there for it.

So Lois pushes forward, despite the cold and the aching in her chest, which is probably caused by both her injuries _and_ her worries about Clark.

To keep her dry, Bibbo lent her some sort of oversized raincoat that goes past her toes. The hugeness can be attributed to Bibbo's size - it's his coat, after all, and in all honesty, he's not the smallest man in the world. But she suspects that, in this case, the size of the man reflects the size of his heart. He's done so much for her in a time of crisis - so much that she simply does not know how to thank him. Right now, all she can do is resolve to frequent the _the Ace O'Clubs_ more often - as a start to making everything up to him.

Hob's Bay is usually relatively well-lit, with a variety of lighthouses all over the place to accommodate the thousands of incoming and departing ships. For that reason, it's almost startling, how dark their path of travel soon becomes as they pursue the Shuster Lighthouse. It seems like the only sources of light are hazy streetlamps by the docks, or the reflection of far-off city lights.

The boats attached to those docks seem to be nothing but looming, dark masses - ominous and threatening. She can't help thinking of deadly giants, waiting to rise up and smash her, causing her already frenzied heart to beat even harder. But ultimately, she and Bibbo pass by them unharmed - they are only boats, after all…they do nothing but float silently in the water.

Lois shakes her head, disgusted at how ridiculous she is being. Right now, there are more pressing things to be afraid of than _empty boats_, for God's sake.

"Think that's da lifehouse, Miss Lane," she hears Bibbo say above the roar of the boat engine. Despite the darkness, she can just make out his finger, pointing to something up on a rocky plateau off the bay.

The lighthouse seems to be the biggest and most disturbing giant of all. Its sides appear to be crumbling, its bricks and foundation falling away sporadically into the ocean. The tower stretches toward the sky like some sickly finger - the finger of something poisoned and struggling for life.

Someone must have purposely let this building fall into complete disrepair. And now, the boat activity in this part of Hob's Bay is just as dark and threatening as the lighthouse that once illuminated it.

"Cut the engine, Bibbo!" she tells him, and he immediately obliges. Then, Lois picks up the oars by her feet and tosses them to him. "It's too loud. We don't want them to know we're coming. As far as I can tell, the police haven't arrived yet, which means that we're gonna have to break in first."

"How ya gonna know which boat it is, Miss Lane?"

That… is a good question. There are tons of boats here, despite the lack of light, and it'll be difficult to find the boat they're looking for without _knowing_ which boat they're looking for.

Lois closes her eyes and tries to think back to weeks ago. For the story on the S.S. Lemaris… Perry gave her a picture of the boat. It was medium size, she supposed. Slightly bigger than a yacht. She showed it to people on St. Martin's Island, asking them what they knew. There was something on its side… something memorable to all of them, since they all seemed to recognize it on sight…

And then she remembers, finally.

"There's a _huge_ mermaid painted on its side, Bibbo!" she exclaims. "You can't miss it. Not so long as we have some light…" Lois fumbles around the bottom of the boat, trying to find the big flashlight she brought along.

They continue pushing forward with the oars, passing by every boat along the docks. Each time they do so, she briefly shines the flashlight on the sides of the ships, trying to find that notorious mermaid painting. For many minutes, she receives no luck. Just unrecognizable boats. So she glares off toward the bay for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts enough to remember _another_ significant feature of the Lemaris.

But wait… off in the distance, she suddenly sees one boat already leaving the harbor - a medium-sized blob of navy on a backdrop of complete blackness. There are lanterns on its deck, illuminating it slightly, though no one seems to be within view of the illumination. But most importantly, the shape of the boat seems rather familiar…

"Bibbo… quick. That boat over there." She points, feeling in heart fill with relief and something very similar to hope. "I think that's it. If we're gonna catch up to it, we've gotta row _fast_."

After that, Lois doesn't think she's ever rowed a boat so hard in her life - not that she's spent a lot of time rowing boats. It would probably be more accurate to say that she'll never row a boat this hard again. There's little doubt in her mind that her muscles will be aching nearly as much as her chest tomorrow… that is… if she doesn't get shot _for real_ while trying to rescue Clark.

It's a heavy effort, but eventually, they get close to the back of the ship. Since there are people on board - people that she knows to be quite skilled with weapons - she signals for Bibbo to be absolutely silent from now on. Then, she makes sure that the flashlight only shines for a second when she looks at the side of the ship, and sure enough, when the beam hits it, there's a mermaid depicted all along the hull.

Lois suppresses her urge to jump for joy. In fact, it becomes quite easy to forget her elation when she realizes that there isn't a way _onto_ the boat.

She scans the boat's hull, and by straining her eyes, she can _just_ make out the outline of a ladder that's out of her reach. It could be broken, which is why it doesn't touch the water. Or… it could be telescoping, and need to be released for her to climb it. Either way, it presents a predicament.

If the latter situation is the case, then she'll need to be lifted up to climb it. And of course, that could be dangerous - if she falls, or if Bibbo drops her, it'd make quite a noise - one that would certainly reveal them to the deadly mercenaries on board. And well… if the ladder is broken… then she's simply screwed, and so is Clark - at least until the police arrive, but the boat could be long gone by then.

Whatever. She didn't come here to play it safe, she supposes. In fact… when has she ever played it safe?

Thus, Lois turns to Bibbo and urgently whispers, "Can you give me a boost? I need to reach that ladder."

"'Course Miss Lane," he whispers back.

They row silently toward the ladder, and once they are directly under it, Bibbo gets down on one knee and interlocks his fingers to create a sort of stepping stool for her. Meanwhile, Lois sheds the raincoat because it makes too much noise, thus leaving only the oversized t-shirt and rolled up pants that Bibbo lent her. Of course, that lack of outerwear makes her freezing, but right now she can't exactly afford comfort.

Lois holds on to Bibbo's shoulder for balance as she steps onto his hands as gently as she can. Immediately, he lifts her upwards toward the ladder, but despite her newfound height, it is still slightly out of reach. Her fingertips just brush the icy metal, but not enough to get a decent grip on it.

"A little higher, Bibbo, please…" she whispers.

"I can't go no higher, Miss Lane," he says. "You're as tall as I can make ya."

She exhales, nervously accepting what she will have to do next. "Alright, fine. I'm gonna have to jump toward it. You okay with that? It might… it might hurt your hand, Bibbo."

Glancing downwards, Lois can just see the outline of him nodding. Her heart fills with gratitude.

Another deep breath. Alright, this is it - she screws this up, and Clark's as good as dead, and she'll _really_ be dead.

It's no use contemplating it, she realizes. So she just reaches out her arms and _jumps._

An exhale of relief escapes her mouth as her fingers close around a metal rung, the frigidity of the metal biting into her fingers. It turns out that the ladder is telescopic, so she fumbles to have the rest of it lowered to water level. The ladder _creaks_, though. And while the sound could be mistaken for the creaking of the old fishing boat, she suspects that any more weight will alert Superman's captors to her presence.

Once her feet are able to rest on lower rungs, she looks down at Bibbo, who is staring up at her expectantly.

"No offense, Bibbo, but I don't think the ladder can take you," she informs him softly. "Besides, I think you've done more than I could ever thank you for - I don't want you risking your life if you don't have to."

"But Miss Lane-"

"Wait for the police. If you hear a commotion, leave and don't wait for me," she tells him commandingly, and he ceases arguing.

Then, Lois takes yet another deep breath and ascends the ladder, hoping desperately that no one is close to the side of the ship.

When she can see the deck on her eye level, she quickly glances around to see if anyone is around. As far as she can tell, the deck is entirely empty, so she silently and quickly climbs onto the deck. From there, she scrambles toward the interior of the ship, ducking intermittently between barrels or other large objects to obscure her from view.

Suddenly, she can hear the sound of muffled talking, coming from what appears to be the wheelhouse. She discreetly comes to stand behind the walled side of the enclosure, listening to their conversation to find out where Clark might be located onboard.

"-of the matter is, we should've left hours ago," an unfamiliar voice says - one probably belonging to a mercenary that has never spoken in Lois's presence.

"Everything worked out fine, anyway. I had to ensure that we were going to be picked up once we reach international waters. I doubt this piece of garbage will last very long," another voice replies - one that she instantly recognizes as belonging to Professor Hamilton.

"Honestly, you couldn't have secured a _bigger_ ship? I mean, the sheer amount of trouble we went through… trying to fit that coffin thing in the cargo hold…not to mention the time we wasted, having to get rid of the crew…"

"You know how the idiotic people in this city feel about Superman. There wasn't a _single_ other boat crew willing to participate in something like this, except for the one we used. Besides, it's not like we had to deal with them for long. They gave us the boat, loaded the alien onboard, and then we disposed of them. Now it's smooth sailing from here - pun intended, I suppose. "

"I'll laugh once I have my money, Hamilton."

So Clark is inside the cargo hold, and given the fact that she is hearing only two people, it's probably likely that he's being watched by the other mercenaries. So rescuing him directly… may be out of the question. At least until the police arrive.

She continues quietly exploring the ship, moving past the wheelhouse and eventually coming to an empty galley. From the entranceway, she can see a kitchenette, a table, some chairs, and wide variety of fishing novelties stacked on the wall. The things that attract her attention the most are the suppressed guns stacked on that table - probably weapons that the mercenaries got tired of carrying around.

Before fully heading inside, Lois glances back toward the side of the ship. The boat seems to be moving fast now, and soon it might be too far away for the police to catch it. She has to get in the wheelhouse… slow down their speed.

After grabbing one of the guns, Lois heads toward the kitchenette, suddenly coming up with an idea. There's a stovetop in the galley, and a mess of papers on the countertop. Thus, Lois turns on the stove to the highest setting and places the papers on top of it. The papers quickly start to smoke and burn, and hopefully, it'll be only a matter of time before the flames spread to the wooden cabinets and smoke fills the whole ship

Lois covers her mouth and nose with her shirt to block the fumes and exits the galley, proceeding back toward the deck beside wheelhouse. Once there, she waits patiently behind some boxes and barrels as smoke fills all the boat's compartments.

It's not long before Lois hears coughing and someone exclaiming: "What the hell is going on? Is that smoke?"

"It's probably this piece of crap boat! Maybe the boiler crapped out!"

Someone sticks their head out of the wheelhouse, coughs still audible from their throats. As far as she can tell through the thick smoke, it appears to be Emil's head.

"It seems to be coming from the galley, not the boiler. If there's a fire, we better go put it out - quick. Someone might get suspicious of a smoking ship. Grab the fire extinguisher."

Lois watches as the two men leave the galley, one of them carrying a red cylindrical container with them. Once they are out of sight, inside the still-smoking galley, she ducks into the wheelhouse and shuts the previously open door behind her.

Lois has never driven a boat before, so she can only guess how it really works. A change in direction using the steering wheel will be too obvious… but maybe if she decreases the speed, they'll never notice. As far as they know, there's no one on board to change their settings, so when they return, it's likely that they won't touch a thing.

After spotting something that looks like the throttles she has seen on subway cars, Lois decides to pull it backwards. As a result, a meter on the boat immediately begins to fall, and despite the obscurity of the smoke, she thinks it indicates a decrease in speed.

"Go get the others to put out this mess!" she hears Emil yell in the distance. "I have to keep steering the ship!"

Lois takes that has her cue to leave the wheelhouse and go back to hiding behind the barrels. Such a decision is ultimately in the nick of time, because Emil is soon heading back into the room she just left. She can hear him mumbling in frustration before he slams the door to the wheelhouse. Lois is more than happy that she's giving him a headache. In fact, she only wishes that she could do more to irritate him at this point…but she knows she shouldn't push her luck - for Clark's sake.

Meanwhile, she hears someone yelling farther down the interior of the ship. Without Emil in view, Lois creeps toward what must be the cargo hold, ducking into another, empty room so that she remains out of sight.

From here, she can see that a mercenary is leaning over some sort of hatch, his face beyond angry. "Which one of you absolute _morons_ left the stove on!"

"The what?" someone calls back from below the hatch.

"The stove! It's caught on freaking fire! Come help us put it out before it burns this piece of crap boat down to ashes!"

"We didn't touch the stove! Must be some electrical glitch, or something. Or leaking propane. Who knows with this dump of a boat. But hold on - we'll be right up."

"One of you should stay with you-know-who."

Lois has a pretty good idea of who you-know-who is… Clark must be right below her feet.

"You kidding? That guy's not waking up. He's breathing in enough tranquilizer to knock out an elephant."

"You never know! Just leave Erickson down there. He's already injured anyway, the damn pussy… hurt by a frickin _girl_, my ass!" the mercenary on her level yells before running back to the galley.

Lois watches as two more mercenaries ascend from the hatch, also proceeding to run toward the fire. With them gone, it seems that her way is open and clear for the time being - which will probably be a very short time. That fire shouldn't take much longer to put out, so she better move fast.

She makes her way toward the hatch, and when she leans over it, she sees that no one is at the bottom of the stairs. So she descends as quietly as she can, her gun aimed outwards.

The farther down she goes, the more the cargo hold becomes visible. She can see Clark's holding device a little ways off, and in front of it stands a mercenary - the one that she stabbed with a needle. Currently, his back is turned from her, and he appears to have his whole attention focused on lighting a cigarette.

Lois tiptoes toward him until she is standing directly behind him - he still doesn't see her.

As she stares at the back of his head, anger floods through her veins, and she finds herself aiming her gun at his skull. After all, why _shouldn't_ she shoot him? This man had a hand in an attempt on her life. He has kidnapped the man she loves and is nonchalantly allowing poison to be fed into his system. Plus, this guy probably killed the crew of this ship, who most certainly did not deserve to die, even if they were prepared to do something illegal. As far as Lois is concerned… he's not _worth_ leaving alive. He's not worth _anything_.

One twitch of her finger, and he's gone. _Dead_. It's that easy.

One twitch… that's all it takes.

But it's also all it takes to violate yet another of her own principles. Suddenly, memories of her time in the hospital enter her mind. She recalls herself telling Lex about "_a better way than fighting evil with evil_."

Killing is evil… she's always known that. In fact, it's a philosophy that she and Clark share, and separates her from Lex or her father. She won't cross another line - not one this… _significant_, anyway. She has already lied tonight. Has already allied herself with an enemy. But she will _not _take a life.

Lois raises the gun like a baseball bat. Then, she proceeds to smack the man in side of the skull - not lethally, though. Just hard enough to knock him unconscious.

"I'm doing you a favor," she hisses in his ear as he slumps to the floor. She doubts the men above can hear her, since it seems like they're busy arguing about how to put out the fire, while one is screaming about their missing gun. Thus, she continues, "Take it from someone who knows - being addicted to cigarettes _sucks_. They get you into all sorts of trouble - cancer, falling overhangs, attacks from _behind_, as you just learned… "

Now, her way to Clark is entirely open, so she approaches the coffin-like containment device.

Lois can't help smiling a little when she sees his face, despite how sickly it looks, under that kryptonite infused, sedative-pumping mask. Back when the mercenaries were preparing to shoot her, she thought she would _never_ see him again. But here he is… here they both are… both alive and breathing, despite how much it might hurt them both, given Clark's aversion to kryptonite and Lois's injuries.

Lois places her hands on the glass, as if to touch him, and as she stares, she feels the smile slipping off her face. He's still in costume, but looks very different than he normally does as Superman. His skin, which is normally so healthy and glowing, is sallow. And his breathing… _God_, his breathing is more akin to ragged wheezes than healthy inhales and exhales. Sometimes his respiration is even interrupted by small moans of pain - the kind that freezes Lois's insides and boils her blood… like the kryptonite must be boiling his…

Overall, seeing Clark like this… makes her reconsider killing the mercenary. She still decides against it, of course. But for a second… she seriously reconsiders it.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," she assures him, beginning to examine the exterior of the device. It's covered with all sorts of locks, and she begins to fiddle with them, but to no avail. Then, she uses her next available tool - her gun. Repeatedly, Lois shoots bullets at the bolts holding it closed, but her attempts do not even make a dent.

Shaking her head, she still talks to Clark, telling him, "Just… just hold on."

She's a little reluctant to shoot the glass, given the fact that Clark is vulnerable to both bullets and sharp shards of _anything _in this state. Instead, she beats against it with the butt of the gun, but that also fails - it must be some sort of heavy-duty plexiglass. Thus, when she does decide to shoot at it, the bullets just bounce off harmlessly.

Rapidly running out of options, Lois desperately searches the outside of the container yet again, searching for something… anything… to open the damn thing.

Wait… there seems to be some sort of panel on the other side. Something with a metallic cover. Lois leans closer to it, examining it. Carefully, she removes the cover, revealing some sort of numeric keypad.

That's… that's just perfect, Lois thinks bitterly. She doesn't know the code… and it seems like opening the container is impossible-

Lois is taken off guard when someone grabs her from behind and pins her to the ground. Above her, she can now see one of the remaining mercenaries looking both incredulous and furious. He must have come back downstairs while she wasn't paying attention.

"You?" he exclaims. "We _shot_ you! The chances of you surviving… "

The gun, which Lois had leaning against the nearby glass, is quickly back in her hands, and she fires a quick bullet into the man's knee while he is distracted by surprise. He immediately collapses and cries out, and she jumps on top of him, covering his mouth and pinning him to the ground. The pressure of her hand on his mouth and nose is continuous, and as hard as she can possibly make it.

"Consider us _even_, then," she hisses as he struggles beneath her, distracted by pain. Eventually, she cuts off his air for long enough to knock him unconscious.

But there are still sounds from upstairs - someone has heard the mercenary's yell of agony. She's almost out of time. Out of luck.

She glances back at the keypad… trying to think…the mercenary said something about chances of surviving… and hers are getting slimmer by the second. In fact… soon…she suspects that her chances of getting out of this will be the same as her chances at winning the lottery…

The lottery…

And then she is back in Bibbo's bar, talking to Lex.

"_3-1-0-8-6-5. Those are going to be your lucky numbers tonight. Just don't ask how I got them," _he said to her, much to her her confusion

"_3-1-0-8… what?_" Lois stammered back. "_Lex, I'm not playing the lottery. I'm trying to save-_"

Her mind back on the boat, Lois's eyes widen. Could it even be possible that Lex _knew_ how to open the case… even though she never told him about it? She doubts it. But then again… she's out of options.

Lois stumbles to her feet and approaches the case once more. Then, almost tentatively, she punches the numbers into the keypad, carefully reciting them from her memory.

Nothing happens… not at first, anyway. Then, to her incredible relief, the locks begin to disengage.

Almost frantically, Lois pulls open the glass cover and rips the translucent mask from Clark's face. She even takes care to fully move the tank of gas as far away from possible, rolling it to the other side of the room using her foot. Then, with as much strength as she can muster, she hoists Clark's body out of the container, leaning it on her own shoulder. He's lighter than she expected - maybe as a result of his unique physiology. Regardless, it's still difficult to hold him and the gun simultaneously, but she knows she will need both.

"Superman!" she urges, lightly smacking his face with the palm of her free hand. "Superman, wake up! We need to get out of here!"

He doesn't respond, and his breaths are still wheezes. Obviously, he needs time to recover, but right now, they don't have that kind of time - she needs Clark to fly them both out of here _now. _

There are now heavy footsteps above her, coming toward the hatch. She needs to think fast… needs a plan…

But it's too late. They're coming for her now, and all she can do is prepare to run and raise her gun.

The heavy footsteps descend the stairs, entering the cargo hold, thus revealing all the mercenaries and Professor Hamilton.

"Lois Lane?" the Professor exclaims with confusion upon seeing her. "You're supposed to be _dead_!"

Lois doesn't respond. She simply shifts Clark into a more manageable position, takes a _huge_ breath, covers her mouth and nose with her shirt, and fires her gun off to the side.

The bullet nicks the tank of sedative, creating a hole that allows the pressurized gas to spray into the room. The men, who are closest to it, receive an instant blast and inhalation of the stuff, and almost instantly begin coughing and dropping unconscious. Lois, meanwhile, pushes past them as she supports Clark and holds her breath, hoping that the gas won't harm him any more than it already has.

Her eyes are closed as she stumbles up the stairs, unwilling to let any of the chemical enter her system. When she trips onto a flat platform of wood, taking Clark down with her, she knows she has reached the upper levels. At that point, she opens her eyes, drops her gun, and slams the door of the hatch shut behind her.

No one pursues her. The gas, which was apparently strong enough to knock out an elephant, is also coincidentally strong enough to knock out three full-grown, bulky men.

And then, just as she takes a breath of clean air, she hears a long awaited sound - Maggie Sawyer speaking sternly through a bullhorn.

"_This is the Metropolis Police Department! Come out on the deck with your hands up, and prepare to be boarded and searched!_"

Sighing with irritation, Lois drags herself upwards, repositioning Clark on her shoulder so that she can continue carrying him. It's only then that she proceeds out on the deck with her free hand up.

The sun is rising over the bay, suggesting that a hopeful dawn has finally come. At first, Lois is distracted by the reflection of the light off the water, the glare hurting her eyes. But she soon realizes that the boat is closely surrounded by ships filled with police officers. Currently, Maggie is even climbing onto the S.S. Lemaris from the ladder on the side of the hull. Once she boards the deck, her expression is shocked to see Lois… standing unharmed and carrying Superman on her shoulder.

"Nice of you to _finally_ show up," Lois yells at her. "But you've missed the party!"

Maggie immediately helps her support Superman, and together, they both gently lay him on the deck. Officers and EMTs flood onto the deck soon after, following the captain's lead. Lois can only watch from his side as the medics attend to Superman, checking his vitals for irregularities despite the fact that they nothing about his alien biology. It's unlikely that they'll be able to determine anything serious, so she is forced to only hope that he has avoided long-term damage from the kryptonite.

"I don't understand," Maggie says. "You said Professor Hamilton had kidnapped him."

"He did. And right now, the good doctor is downstairs with his hired guns, sleeping soundly with the knock-out gas he used on Superman in his lungs."

Maggie shakes her head. "You took them _all_ out? By yourself?"

Lois hasn't even had a chance to think about what she just did… and well… Maggie's description isn't exactly inaccurate. Singlehandedly, she knocked two of the mercenaries out with sheer physical force, and incapacitated the others with the gas. The task of saving Superman seemed impossible… but somehow… she accomplished it. So she nods.

What's that quote she always hears? 'People do crazy things for love,' or something?

After sending officers with gas masks down to the cargo hold to attend to the Professor and his accomplices, Maggie once again voices her disbelief at Lois's rescue.

"I… had help," Lois replies quietly, thinking of Lex and Bibbo. "But you're not gonna arrest me for vigilantism or anything, are you?"

Maggie purses her lips. "Given the circumstances… and the statutes regarding self defense and citizens' arrests… I think it's a safe bet that the courts will rule in your favor."

"But I'm still going to have to go to court, aren't I?"

"Probably."

Just as Lois is about to groan in displeasure, she sees Clark shift slightly, his eyelids fluttering. The medics back off in response, fearing that they have hurt him and caused the reaction, but Lois knows better and kneels over him eagerly. It's the first real movement she has seen from him in hours.

"Superman?" she says hopefully. "Can you hear me?"

Then, after a few moments of silent suspense, his eyes squint open and stare up at her, making her want to cry _humiliating _tears of relief. And God… his eyes are really two of the most beautiful things she has ever seen, with the millions of colors contained in his irises…irises she thought she would never see again…

A few convulsive coughs rip through him before he is able to speak.

"… Lois?" he finally murmurs in a hoarse voice. "What… what happened?"

She sighs. "It was… it was Professor Hamilton. He ambushed us. But you're safe now."

It seems like Clark is struggling to talk. His eyelids are repeatedly sliding close, only for him to force them open again. "Are you… are you… okay? Did he… hurt you?"

Lois rolls her eyes and suppresses what she supposes is manic laughter, given the seriousness of the question. But _come on_ \- how could she _not_ be rather sickly amused? He was kidnapped and drugged, but for some reason, the first thing Clark wondered upon waking is whether _someone else_ was hurt… whether _she_ was hurt.

It's just typical of him… and seeing him behave so predictably _despite_ his condition… fills Lois with an undeniable feeling that everything is going to be okay.

"I'm fine," she assures him. "You, on the other hand, have been through quite an ordeal. How are you feeling?"

He gulps heavily, like it's difficult to do. "I've…been better..." he manages, arranging his features into a feeble sort of smile. "The sunlight… feels good though…"

Lois chuckles softly and places a hand on his cheek. He tiredly leans his head against her fingers, his eyes finally sliding closed. As he drifts off, she tells him, "I think you should rest now, Superman. Soak up some of that sun."

She hears him hum quietly, and then he is silent save for the sound of his breathing. However, she is not worried. She knows that he is _healing_ \- that Lois is sure of… and thankful for.

It's an odd feeling, what she is experiencing right now. It's like all the despair… all the worry she felt a few hours earlier… is being drained from her like a poison extracted from her veins. Because this time… she managed to beat the bullet… even managed to avoid a scar. And more importantly, she managed to actually save a victim...she _saved_ Clark.

But then a glance around the deck reveals that all the officers have stopped to stare at her and Superman with a somewhat invasive amount of interest. Thus, Lois fights a blush in her cheeks - the first one she has felt in a while. She can only imagine how many rumors about '_Lois Lane and Superman_' as a couple will spread in a few hours.

They're all essentially true, of course, but that doesn't mean she has to _like_ people butting into her personal business.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**A/N: This story is not over yet! There's a pretty long epilogue, and I have some bonus material. I've been wondering whether I should post the sequel in the same story here, as additional chapters. What do you think? It might be easier than having you guys follow a new one. Or I can make a new fanfic. It's up to you. **

**Please review! The epilogue is pretty sweet...and bittersweet at the same time. You'll see. Then I've got some Clark POV bonus material. You'll get to see what he was thinking up until the point he realized he was in love with Lois. **

**I'm posting early, I know. I have another tournament on Saturday and I didn't want to forget this. **


	32. Epilogue - Peace and Quiet

_EPILOGUE_

_FIVE MONTHS LATER…_

In retrospect… Lois really should have seen it coming. It's not like falling from great heights is a new experience for her. In fact… it's something that she does on a near-weekly basis nowadays. Only last week, some gun-toting maniac calling himself "Bloodsport" decided to toss her off the top of the Daily Planet. And before that...another lunatic going by the name of "Master Jailer" tried to literally _throw her_ out of Stryker's Island Penitentiary so that he could take over the prison as its iron-fisted ruler, or something crazy. Of course, Superman stopped both men and managed to save her in the end, but falling still _sucked_.

So yes...she probably should have prepared for something like this. But when she let herself get taken hostage by a stubby old man who, of all things, adopted the persona of "_Toyman_"...maybe she didn't think that he had it _in_ him to throw her out a window.

She was wrong.

So now she's falling, and the ground is coming toward her at a disturbingly rapid pace. She'll make a mental note not to underestimate stubby old men anymore - they can really take you off guard if you let them.

Maybe she shouldn't have gloated about how much she heard of his plans. But she supposes it doesn't matter - she wanted to get out of his clutches quickly after gaining the necessary information, and being tossed out a window is as good a way as any.

Of course, as she falls, Lois screams a bit, but not because she's actually scared. She has to put on a show for the public's sake, considering that they're all gathered below her, watching with dumbstruck morbidity as she continues plummeting like a stone. The news coverage of the whole event should be global, by the looks of it, and she wonders if Jimmy made it here in time to snap photos.

Considering that he is Superman's "pal," she had asked Jimmy to tell the Man of Steel where she had been _quote-unquote_ "forcibly taken." And since Superman is currently at city hall, at some big honorary ceremony, he should probably be here in 5… 4… 3… 2...

And then, right on time, there is that familiar pressure along her back and under her knees - gentle but firm, emanating a warmth that she knows too well. Her surroundings, which were previously blurring with the speed of her descent, begin to move slower and slower until she is entirely stagnant, several hundred feet above the crowd. Her mouth immediately snaps shut so that she can _finally_ stop her exaggerated screaming.

"Really, Lois? _Again_?" a less-than-amused voice asks from above her head.

Now held in Superman's arms, Lois glances up at his face and sees that he has one eyebrow expectantly raised, like someone awaiting an explanation for a minor misdeed. But he's not really angry - she can tell. Clark doesn't get angry very often, and if he does display some sort of negative emotion, he usually does so diplomatically, or with vague irritation.

But right now...he _might_ be vaguely irritated.

"Hello to you too," she greets with a smirk, shooing some of his billowing cape out of her face. "How's your morning been so far?"

He rolls his eyes. "Stop changing the subject. Why did you offer yourself as a hostage _again_? I thought we talked about this."

She shrugs. "Well, I mean...if anyone's gonna be taken hostage, shouldn't it be someone who _doesn't _panic in the face of danger? Not to mention that I'll get to put in first-hand recollections in tomorrow's news, _and_ I just got Schott to admit where he put those Lexcorp employees he kidnapped. So as far as I'm concerned, it's a win-win-win."

"As far as you're concerned, you were just nearly killed," he argues seriously.

"As far as I'm _actually_ concerned, I had enough faith in you, _Superman_, to know that you were gonna catch me. Trust me - if there was some _other_ gigantic crisis demanding your attention, I wouldn't have done it. But considering the circumstances…"

"Once again," he emphasizes. "You could have _died_."

"And _you_ could have died when Bloodsport shot Kryptonite bullets at you, but I didn't tell _you_ to stop doing your job," she counters with a pointed look in his direction.

That shuts him up. And soon enough, he's doing one of those brisk exhales of air - the kind that indicates that he _knows_ he just lost the argument.

"The other hostages…" he mutters begrudgingly, "Where'd he say they were?"

"You'll never believe this… but he has them in a closed-down _Toys R Us_ in Bakerline. Guy's a total nut. Though he hasn't actually installed any explosives yet, he wants to blow up the building to send a message to '_anyone who deliberately works to impede the ancient art of toymaking_' or something. Regardless, you should be back at the mayor's big ceremony in no time at all."

"Good. I'll drop you off at the Planet before I take care of that."

"Sounds like a plan. Sorry for missing your big day, by the way."

"That's okay. I think Jimmy took pictures when he arrived."

"Also," she adds curiously, "what does the 'key to the city' even do? Does it actually open anything?"

"I don't think so. I think it's just symbolic of the public's' gratitude, and it's very nice of city hall to bestow it upon me."

"So… it's just a worthless piece of metal?" she clarifies for him.

"It's not worthless at all!" he protests, beginning to fly toward the Daily Planet building. The crowd below cheers loudly as he passes above them. "Like I said, it's representative of the people's appreciation of my actions, which means that they actually _want_ me here - and that's _important_ to me. Plus, it probably wasn't cheap to make. I think it's made out of gold."

"Really? How many carats?"

"Lois…"

"Hey, I want to make sure Mr. Embezzlement isn't skimping out on you."

Clark chuckles a bit. Once they are high enough off the ground, out of the view of the the people below, she feels him press a kiss to her temple. Then, he tells her, "I wouldn't have been able to find out, even if I wanted to. As you'll recall, _someone_ got herself thrown out of a _window_."

* * *

"For a distinguished example of meritorious public service by a news service or a news site through the use of its journalistic resources...a gold medal will be given to two awardees - the first..._the Gotham Gazette_, for its jarring and relentless investigation into international crime, thus inciting a massive change in how security is handled throughout the country. Victoria Vale and Charlotte Rivers, please step forward to receive this award."

Applause fills the room, and Lois eagerly takes part in it. Currently, she is inside some fancy library at Columbia University in New York City. And while she will always be partial to Metropolis as her favorite city in the world, she happens to have a strong appreciation for the Big Apple as well - especially when the Pulitzer Prizes are being awarded, like they are right now.

According to her past experiences, the luncheon is one of the best parts of receiving the award, mostly because she has an opportunity to interact with reporters from all over the country. Plus, the library is beautiful, bedecked with glittering marble and expertly decorated for the occasion with delicately set tables and chairs.

Lois watches as two unfamiliar, smartly dressed women receive the medal, smiling for pictures with President what's-his-name of the University. It strikes Lois that she probably _should have_ learned his name...especially considering that this will be the _third_ time she has received an award from him.

Actually, that's not technically true either. Last time, she was in the hospital during the luncheon, recovering from her bullet wound. Perry came to accept her award for her… sent it to her in the mail. It still gives her chills… the circumstances in Qurac that led to her last Pulitzer. The mysteries… the problems over there… they still have not been put fully to rest.

For that reason, Lois will be heading back to Qurac in a few months. She's nervous about it, of course, and so is Clark, but this time she knows that things will be different. This time… she will be accompanied by a group of soldiers that are specially-tasked with finding the Bialyan nationalists and stopping them. It will be important, she thinks, to see the tragedy somewhat resolved, and the late victims finally receiving justice. Closure is her goal, and she'll be damned if she doesn't at least _try_ to get it.

But for the current moment, she pushes all thoughts of Qurac out of her mind. Right now she wants to live in the present, even if it's selfish to do so. After all...she didn't fly all the way to New York to dwell on the past - she's here to celebrate how her life has changed from that moment, because as far as her happiness is concerned, those changes _are _something to celebrate.

So Lois grabs for Clark's hand, squeezes it tightly, and continues listening to the presentations. She sees him smile out of the corner of her eye, and can't help thinking about how _he_ was one of those positive changes. In truth, it's not so much that he changed _her _as a person...it's more that he has made her life much more enjoyable, and restored her faith in the common good during a time when that faith had been struggling. And maybe he won't be receiving any awards for that tonight...but it means the world to Lois.

According to the presentation, the second award for Public Service is not for the Daily Planet, much to Perry's chagrin. It ends up going to the Daily Star for its coverage of a popular medical scam that was sweeping the nation. It wasn't exactly a surprise to anyone - the news of the recipients are out before the actual luncheon.

"Oh _yeah_...I'm sure medical scams rank way higher than _alien life_," Lois hears Perry grumble sarcastically from the seat to her left, despite his fair warning of the loss. It makes her smirk - how competitive he is. She thinks that's why Perry has always liked her so much… she and him... they're way too similar.

As the long-time editor of the Planet, he always attends the Pulitzer ceremonies, so he is here with her now. Several of her co-workers are here as well, and they nearly fill her table. Ron Troupe is sitting across from her, Jimmy Olsen is two seats down, and Clark...Clark's sitting right beside her. The reporters and photojournalists, unlike Perry, are here because they were nominated for awards, but were ultimately snubbed.

Clark and Jimmy, however, were planning on coming no matter what. More than anything, they're here to support _her_ \- and it's something that fills her with deep gratitude.

Because tonight...Lois has _not_ been snubbed. Tonight she is making journalistic history as the first reporter to win consecutive awards. And she will make that history by soon ascending the stairs to that dais, thus receiving yet another prestigious honor. It'd be a lie to say that it doesn't make her heart swell.

"Come on, chief. We all know they're not gonna give the Planet _another_ win - not with Lois about to become such a big deal around here," Jimmy Olsen insists over the sound of the applause, trying to keep Perry from getting too angry.

"He's probably right, you know," Clark whispers into her ear as Perry's face turns back to its normal color, instead of the angry red it just appeared to be. "People might start to think that the committee's giving you too much attention - not that you don't deserve it, of course."

"Quality is quality," she tells him with mock arrogance. "Doesn't matter how many times it's produced, even if it's by the same person. I'm just _that_ good."

"That you are."

"And people, as a collective group, are idiots - and for that reason, I try not to listen too much to what they think."

"Well…" Clark begins, amusement in his voice, "considering that this room is filled with _people_, it'd probably be best if you said that opinion a little quieter."

Lois snorts, and as she does so, the President of the University begins speaking again. He awards a man from _the Manhattan Guardian_ the Breaking News Reporting Pulitzer for his coverage of a newly discovered disease… and then … then it's onto the Investigative Reporting Award.

"...for a distinguished example of investigative reporting by an individual or team, presented as a single newspaper article or series," the University President (God, she should have learned his name) recites. "There is one awardee, and upon receiving this honor, she will become the first-ever journalist to win consecutive Pulitzer Prizes: one, for her brave coverage last year of a series of human rights violations in the country of Qurac, and another, for her investigations into the alien being known...as Superman. As far as we know… she is the first person to _ever_ interview an extraterrestrial, and the first individual to ever confirm one's existence for the public interest. So please - would Lois Lane of the Daily Planet come up to receive this award?"

Applause erupts in the hall as all eyes turn to look at her. Everyone - her fellow reporters and writers, her co-workers, her boyfriend - are clapping for her… happy for her.

Just before she stands, Lois unexpectedly pulls Clark forward for a rushed and intense sort of kiss, but she savors every short second of it, despite the immature wolf-whistle in which Jimmy indulges. Then, once she releases a rather dazed Clark, she is on her feet and walking toward the dais, where the University President and one of the Pulitzer Committee members are waiting for her.

It's nearly surreal when they hand her the award, which is covered in a light blue leather case. And then… then she is taking pictures, standing frozen before a flashing camera. She'll have to ask for a copy of the photos - she's gonna want to remember today forever.

* * *

After the presentation of the awards, there is some time for mingling, which Lois spends receiving and giving congratulations to all her fellow awardees. She takes quite a few minutes talking with Victoria "Vicky" Vale, who seems to be quite the rising star at the Gotham Gazette. Lois admires any woman who dives headlong into such a male-dominated field and comes out successful, so she and Vicky easily become fast friends.

Unfortunately, Vicky's date - Bruce Wayne, who also happens to be an old flame of Lois's - approaches them. Lois just manages to say her goodbyes to her new friend before he notices her. They had one hell of a falling out back in the day, and she'd rather not reminisce about it.

Later, she meets the editor of the Daily Star, who not-so-discreetly offers Lois a ludicrous amount of money to join his staff. Unfortunately for said editor, an eavesdropping Perry White was nearby, and he made quite a scene by yelling at him.

She doesn't particularly mind, though. Lois has no plans to leave the Daily Planet anytime soon, if ever. After all, it _was_ the first real place that gave her a chance, and it was also the first place where she became a success. For those reasons… she feels inextricably connected and indebted to the Planet, and all the people who work for it.

Not to mention that there's a rather _handsome_, literally _out-of-this-world_ reporter who's depending on her as his partner…

Eventually, after a few _million_ awardee group pictures, the luncheon ends and the library slowly empties of people. From there, Lois and Clark break off from the rest of the Daily Planet employees, which causes some raised eyebrows and shaking heads since it breaks the staff's normal tradition of going out for drinks, but Lois doesn't particularly care.

She and Clark don't go anywhere in particular - they simply wander around the campus for a while, talking and laughing. At some point, they settle down in a gazebo by the freshman dorms, holding hands and leaning on one another. To their delight, it faces some sort of blooming garden, which they sit admiring.

"So, _Miss Lane_," Clark says suddenly, adjusting his glasses so that she can see his eyes in the way he knows she likes. "How does it feel to be the first reporter to win _consecutive_ Pulitzer Prizes?"

She shrugs in fake nonchalance. "I don't see how it's such a big deal. That cartoonist did it _years_ before me...though he wasn't a reporter."

Clark leans closer to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. "Oh come on. Admit it - you're absolutely _ecstatic_."

"Fine," she concedes, returning the gesture by snaking her arm behind his back. "It feels pretty damn amazing - being recognized for my work. Though there is _some_ due credit to you - letting me interview Superman was a pretty big deal, you know."

"Hey - all I did was answer questions," he tells her.

"All I did was _come up_ with questions," she counters.

"But you also did a _ton_ of research... enough to get around all the time I took, trying to cover up my existence. That's not a small feat either. Besides, you did have some pretty great questions. I especially liked answering the one about my favorite dessert flavor."

She snorts. "I still resent your indecision. You can't like chocolate and vanilla _equally_. It just doesn't happen."

"Well, I do. And it's called having _versatile_ tastes, not _indecisive_ ones."

"I don't know if I like the sound of these… _versatile tastes_. I mean, does such _versatility_ extend to your taste in women?" she asks jokingly.

"Not at all," Clark replies seriously, squeezing her hand. "I'm pretty partial to bossy, overly sarcastic, ambitious reporters."

"Yikes. That sounds awfully limiting."

"Yup - it's downright dooming. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Smirking, Lois angles her face toward his, telling him, "If you say so, Romeo. Now...are you gonna kiss me or what?"

He returns the smirk, leaning toward her. "I think the scenery's definitely right."

"You talking about me as the scenery, or the garden?"

"There's a garden here? I didn't notice..."

"Smooth, farmboy. Very smooth…"

And then their lips meet, and Lois still feels that incredible electricity. She wishes that she could suspend time at this moment - kissing Clark, absolutely in love, with a new Pulitzer Prize tucked into her purse. Maybe that's vain… but once, again, she simply doesn't care. She's happy and she's proud of herself, and that's certainly something to be grateful for.

Sadly, the kiss ends much more quickly than she intended it to, because Clark pulls away unexpectedly. Soon, his head is turning toward somewhere in the distance, his expression far-off and all too familiar.

"Let me guess-" she begins.

"There's an earthquake in Turkey. I should-"

She kisses him on the cheek, cutting him off. "You don't have to tell me, you know. Just go."

Clark looks at her earnestly and apologetically, already loosening the collar of his shirt to reveal a tiny bit of the Superman costume. "I'll meet you at the hotel tonight - I promise. And I love you."

Lois starts to return the last three words, but before she can, he has already disappeared, leaving her alone in the gazebo. She tries not to feel too lonely after that - this is what she signed up for, isn't it? Sharing her life with a man that already shares his life with world. By no accounts is it supposed to be easy, or risk-free.

_But_ _I've never been one to play it safe_, she reminds herself with a bitter sort of amusement as she gathers her purse and prepares to leave the campus.

Just before she does, however, someone interrupts her departure by saying: "Beautiful afternoon, isn't it?"

Lois turns to see Lex Luthor standing at the entrance of the gazebo, hands in the pockets of his probably excessively expensive suit.

"It could be better," she replies, trying to ignore the odd feeling in her stomach that has suddenly appeared upon looking at him. "What are you doing here, Lex?"

"At the University? I'm a rather preeminent beneficiary at this school and many others, so I oftentimes deliver the donation checks myself. Of course… I also wanted to congratulate you on your awards. I honestly can't think of a more deserving reporter," he tells her casually.

Lois clutches her purse tightly. "Thanks. But we both know that I'm not an idiot. So why are you _really_ here?"

The almost… _challenging_ glint in Lex's green eyes unsettles her. "Where's Kent?"

"You didn't answer my question," she complains impatiently.

"And you didn't answer mine."

Lois exhales. "He went to find a bathroom. But if you're here to talk about Clark or my relationship with him, you might as well leave, because I'm _not_ having this discussion with you."

And it's true. She refuses to talk or think about Clark in Lex's presence. Because Lois can't do those things without feeling like she has betrayed Clark… like she has allied herself with someone who _should be_ her enemy… someone who is the enemy of the man she loves as well. But instead of feeling distrust, or anger, or dislike, there's something much more inescapable at the bottom of her heart when she looks at him - and that something is gratitude.

It bubbles under her skin, fills her brain, _drowns _her. There's a debt between them that she can't really repay - not in full, given the significance of the favor that he did for her. And thus… with that realization comes an even more horrible emotion - guilt.

And that guilt is made all the worse by the fact that she manipulated him, especially since Lex is too smart not to realize that she used him. But he still helped her anyway, despite the manipulation… despite _everything_… and for that reason, she finds herself unable to hate him anymore. How could she, after he saved Superman, a person he hates… for her? It's the reason why she keeps trying to worm her way out of articles about Lex, or another expose on him with Clark.

Because maybe she can hate what Lex does, and what he represents, but right now...she can't bring herself to hate _him_.

And she suspects that he realizes _that _too.

"If you must know why I'm here," Lex begins, stepping closer to her, "I anticipated that you would have questions about the… favor… I did for you. It was a rather confusing night, yes?"

Lois swallows. "I do have a few… speculations that I'd like verified. Out of pure curiosity."

"Well… now's your chance. You won't get another one."

Oh God, now he's throwing her words back in her face - words that represent the empty promise she made him, even without making a _literal_ promise. Such a small, innocuous, set of words, and yet… they get under her skin so easily, which is what she suspects he wants. So she pretends to be unfazed by it.

"Alright, fine," she declares, "The numeric code… the one for the containment device… I've spent a while trying to determine how you knew it. But the only logical explanation I can think of… is that you had Professor Hamilton under surveillance… for a very _long_ time. Probably because you considered his work some sort of threat."

Lex simply looks at her approvingly, neither denying nor confirming. But that in itself demonstrates that she is correct.

"So the research we did on Superman… you know about all of it? Everything we learned?" she asks, feeling like her blood has turned to ice.

More silence. Another _yes_ \- a yes that indicates that Clark is in serious danger. Everything Emil knows about Clark's weaknesses from his spot in jail… Lex also knows. And that makes her worry.

"And did you know he was going to kill me?"

"No," he answers decisively. "I thought he was after Superman - and Superman alone. Peril for the so-called 'Man of Steel' was of no concern to me. I would've been better off with him gone, or with him in the hands of some megalomaniacal idiot. And even if he was sold to my competitors, I knew that I would ultimately get my hands on his DNA and profit off it in the long run. My watching of Hamilton was merely caused by my curiosity regarding Superman's origins. 'Know your enemy,' as they say."

The next questions comes almost involuntarily. "So why did you save him?"

Lex smirks. "You know why. I did it because you asked me to."

She closes her eyes and clenches her fists. "That's not a good enough reason. Not for you."

"And how do you figure that?" he inquires, the challenging glint his eyes becoming even more prominent than before.

"Because you _must_ have known that it would get you nowhere. I don't love you! I _can't_ love you," she swears. "And you're too effing smart to make a bad investment."

Lex places his hands behind his back and takes another step toward her. "You - a bad investment? Heh. That's a good description, I suppose. Because, you know, you're probably right. You can't love me. Not while _he's_ claimed you. The alien."

She blinks and shakes her head hard. "First - no one has _claimed_ me, whatever that means. And I'm dating Clark - _not_ Superman. I love Clark."

"Clark… Superman… does it matter?" Lex says impatiently, not quite looking at her. "I respect you too much to treat you like an idiot. So pay me the same respect. You must realize that it's not _that_ difficult to figure out that they're one and the same - not for someone with my intelligence, anyway."

Lois refuses to confirm or deny his words, so she just stares at him with a cold, even expression. But that, she supposes, is confirmation in itself.

"Does it bother you?" Lex begins, a cruel sort of undertone to his voice. "Does it bother you that, in a time of real crisis, _he_ failed you and I _didn't_?"

"It doesn't change anything," she says.

"Sure it does. Do you want to know the real reason I did it, Lois? Why I helped you, with no personal benefit to myself?

Her voice comes out as barely more than a mumble when she responds, "Why?"

"To show you how much he's changed you."

"_Changed_ _me_?" she sputters. "He makes me happy - that's it. And you're crazy."

"No. I'm not. How many times have you lied for him now? How many times have you manipulated _me_ for him? I know you've hurt people for him. You've probably almost _killed_ someone for him, haven't you?"

"Shut up!" she snaps. "You sacrifice for love. That's the point."

"Maybe. But I never asked you to do those things for me. I would _never_ ask you to violate your principles. In fact, when you told me that you couldn't stand my ways, I realized that you were right, and I tried to change them."

"He never asked me to violate my principles either."

"But he certainly puts you in positions where you have to, doesn't he? And he doesn't even realize it," Lex points out. "You said you hated me. But for him… you were willing to change your mind about that too. And you were literally willing to throw away your life for him. Not for some greater cause, or noble end… you were willing to die _just_ so he could see another day."

He takes another step closer, his words deliberate. "I just want you to consider whether this chemical attraction, this _devotion_ you have for him… is worth losing who you are. Because that's the road you're on. And maybe I don't have the clearest conscience in the world… but at least I know who I am, what I believe in, and what I'm capable of. In fact… I used to think that's what _we_ had in common… but with him around… I'm not so sure anymore."

His words sound so… convincing. So carefully planned and logical. And if she were a younger, more gullible version of herself, she'd probably fall for them. But right now she won't.

"I've come to believe that principles and people… are two things that are meant to keep changing with time," she declares confidently. "When I rescued Superman, I wasn't willing to die for just my own happiness, or even _his_ happiness. I was willing to die because I believed that the world needed Superman - needed him much more than it needed me."

"Then he's deluding you. The human race has survived for a long time without him."

"No. He's not. Because when I say that the world needs Superman, I mean that it needs _more_ than the person. It needs the ideals that he represents - the hope, the unconditional kindness, and the desire to be something _greater_ than self-serving. I want a future where everyone believes in those ideals - I've seen too much death. Too much hate. I don't want them anymore."

She takes a deep breath and continues speaking. "All the secrets I kept for him… were to _save_ lives. The times I manipulated you...were to ultimately _save_ lives. And when I was so angry that I considered killing a man, I decided against it to _save lives_. There are many different types of integrity, Lex, and I'm forming my own brand - one focused on genuine concern for other human beings. So I'm not gonna let you _scare me_ back into who I used to be."

Lex doesn't speak after that. He simply stares at her with a somewhat resentful expression.

It's only when he starts to leave, sauntering back toward the road, that he talks again.

"If you believe your deeds were so justifiable, especially by Superman's ideals, then why haven't you told him that you asked me for help?" Lex asks almost patronizingly. "And yes, I know that you haven't told him - perhaps out of the fear that he won't look at you the same way. But who knows? Maybe it _won't_ be a big deal in his eyes - you were trying to save his life, after all. But then again… if you were willing to come to me for that… well, I suppose he'll start to wonder _what else_ you'd be willing to come to me for."

And with those chilling words - words that somehow sounded like a threat, despite being nothing of the sort - he departs, leaving her on the gazebo alone with the one fear that she can't quite explain away.

It's probably why he saved it for last. It was his last resort - his coup de grace.

* * *

Clark arrives at the hotel as the sun begins to set, and he practically speeds inside the room so that he can change out of his costume. As soon as he is moving at normal speeds, Lois sees that he has a bottle of champagne in his hands - picked up from somewhere in France to further improve their celebration of her Pulitzer.

Upon getting a good look at the room and placing the bottle in a bucket of ice, Clark immediately whistles and remarks, "The balcony's got quite a view. And this...this is _some_ room."

He's referring to the incredibly expensive Midtown suite that she booked for the two of them - one with the full city visible from the terrace, and all the luxury commodities. Her Pulitzer came with $10,000 of prize money, and since she had no pressing items on her wishlist, she decided to spend most of it on a truly unforgettable night with Clark.

Besides, this is the closest they'll come to a six-month anniversary celebration. Chances are that they won't get another opportunity for a romantic getaway, even for one day, so they decided to take tonight for granted. The circumstances are _relatively_ perfect. They've already traveled somewhere outside Metropolis, and Lois has the money to spend. Plus, Perry will be off drunk somewhere, unable to give assignments, and Clark has reserved this night for themselves so long as no _huge_ crises come about.

Most importantly, she has completely forced Lex's words out of her mind. She won't let him ruin tonight. Not in the least. Nothing has changed - she still wants to be with Clark… she still loves him more than she has loved anyone before.

"How much is it?" Clark asks out a sort of morbid curiosity, once again referring to the room.

"More than I'd like to dwell on or talk about," Lois tells him honestly from her spot on the king-sized bed, where she can see the city skyline without actually going out on the balcony. "You manage to avert disaster with that earthquake?

Clark finds and fills two champagne flutes, and proceeds to hand her one as he sits beside her on the mattress. "It wasn't as bad as it could've been. I was able to locate almost all of the missing persons, and repair a lot of housing. It seems like local emergency services had things under control. I'll go back tomorrow to see if I can help even more."

"But not tonight, right?" Lois verifies, raising an eyebrow.

"No. Definitely not tonight," he assures her with a smile, raising his glass. "Tonight's about you. So… let's make a toast to the most incredible reporter in Pulitzer history, shall we?"

"Perry and the Planet gang probably made that toast already - let's be _original_. Why don't we toast to a night of peace and quiet instead? It might be our last one for awhile, you know."

"Alright, fine. I can agree to that," he says, his eyes glimmering as he clinks glasses with her. "To peace and quiet."

Lois bites her lip and stares at him as he takes a sip of his champagne. When he notices, he raises an eyebrow at her and asks, "What? Something on my face?"

"Well… I was about to say that this room won't be peaceful and quiet for long, but I thought better of it."

He rolls his eyes and places his champagne flute on the nightstand. "You had to make a romantic moment _dirty_, didn't you?"

"What did you expect? You changed into a freaking _bathrobe_, Smallville. You're not even wearing pants."

"Well, _you_ were already wearing a bathrobe, so I was just following your example."

Suppressing laughter, Lois downs the flute of champagne in a rather impressive gulp before placing it, empty, beside his partially full one. "Whatever you say, Smallville. But now that you mention it… I think you've got a droplet of champagne on your face. Hold on, I'll get it off for you -"

Another eye roll. "Lois, that's literally the oldest and _worst_ line in the b-"

He never gets to finish what he was about to say, because before he can, she is cutting him off with a fierce kiss, practically jumping on top of him. Her lips capture his bottom lip, tugging on it playfully, and she winds and tangles her fingers in his hair.

His body responds to the contact of her skin immediately, and she feels rather than hears him moan softly against her mouth. His arms - which are still so strong and warm - instantly go around her, clutching her close as he falls backwards onto the bed

It's that same electricity between them, strong and vibrant, like tiny fireworks in her veins. Lois has had many hunches in her life, and if her gut is any indication, then she is reasonably certain that she will never feel this sort of euphoria with anyone else. Ever.

His mouth then travels from her own, proceeding to lay kisses on her cheek, on her neck, and on her shoulders. She even feels his lips slide against the scar of her bullet wound.

"This room… has a jacuzzi… that I fully… intend… to use…" Lois then gasps between the kisses, her eyes half lidded, and her whole mind and heart completely absorbed in his touch.

His laugh gets muffled against her skin, against her scar - a warm vibration to accompany one of her favorite sounds. Eventually, he is laughing so hard that he literally has to pull away to ask, "You _actually_ paid for a jacuzzi suite?"

She smirks, continuing to idly tangle her hands in his hair. "You kidding? That was the _first_ thing I asked for."

"Good to know you have the important things covered."

"Hey, some things were actually a pleasant surprise_,_" she remarks jokingly. "The bathrobes, for example. They came free with the room - and I am certainly glad they did."

He laughs heartily yet again and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. "Frankly, I could do _without_ the bathrobes."

"_Now_ who's making the dirty jokes?"

He grins admiringly and stares deeply - intensely - into her eyes. "Dirty humor and constant disasters aside… I really love you, Lois Lane. And I'm really glad we're getting away from it all, for one night."

"Well, we've earned this," Lois reminds him, "And obviously… I love you too."

She gets lost in the way he leans in and resumes kissing her. And soon enough, he is lifting her off the bed like she weighs nothing and carrying her toward the bathroom.

In this _perfect_ moment, Lois has forgotten to mention what Lex said - forgotten the revelation that Lex knows the truth. And unfortunately, tomorrow… she will remember and solemnly tell Clark the news. Together, they will share their fear about what the future brings in terms of Lex's machinations.

But they will also share in the hope for that future - hope that is stronger than Lex or the various disasters that they will inevitably face.

And then, in this moment, something even odder comes back to her, from the depths of her memory - her recollection of her short conversation with Dr. Anderson.

"_I encourage you to find something to believe in_," the therapist had said. "_Something that gives you hope for the future. Otherwise… well… you'll probably just keep reliving the past._"

And well… as corny as it sounds… Lois is pretty sure that Clark is something that gives her hope for the future. In fact… she could marry him, she realizes. She _would_ marry him right now.

And Lois has never even considered marriage before in her _life_. In fact, the ease with which she considers it startles her, and she pushes the thought temporarily out of her mind.

They've got time. And to be honest...she doesn't want to interrupt these moments of so-called 'peace and quiet' for anything - not even _I do's_.

But maybe someday. It sounds like a big commitment, being _Mrs. Superman. _It might even be a bigger commitment for him to be _Mr. Lois Lane_. She wants them both to be ready for it.

END OF BOOK ONE

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED, IT BELONGS TO DC COMICS AND ITS AFFILIATES, ETC.**

**A/N: Alrighty, that's the end of book one, with the longest chapter yet! **

**So I've decided to just put the sequel in this document, instead of starting a new one. Next chapter, however, will not be the sequel, but some bonus content from Clark's POV. It won't be the whole book in his POV - just a few vignettes from the early chapters. **

**I'll be changing the name of this book (if fanfiction allows) to the _Hope Trilogy_, because if all goes well, there will be three books. **

**At this point, I would like to PLEASE ask all of you to leave a review, so that I know what to improve upon. Also, if you really liked this story, please favorite so that I know that people enjoyed it. If you want to continue to read the story as it continues, follow if you so desire. **

**Well, I hope you enjoyed! See you next week. And the week after that, the sequel begins! Also, did you guys catch any easter eggs in this chapter? Some of them are gonna be important in the next book...**

**See you later! **


	33. Book One Bonus Content

**BOOK ONE BONUS CONTENT: CLARK POV VIGNETTES**

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN-RELATED**

**CONTEXT: BEGINS RIGHT AFTER LOIS'S INJURY, AND ENDS RIGHT AFTER GENERAL LANE'S ATTACK. Sorry I didn't write more than this. It was an experiment more than anything - one that I thought you'd all like to read. Excuse any mechanical errors. Once again, this was written just for hahas, and wasn't really meant to be published, but I'm doing it anyway. Happy Valentine's day to those who are blessed with a significant other. As for the rest of us, please enjoy Valentine's day by living vicariously through clois. (ALSO DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEW BVS TRAILER WITH THE BATHTUB SCENE? IT WAS A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE FOR ME)**

* * *

"I heard you were back in town," Lana says, her eyes pointedly downcast.

It's been four years since they have seen each other - four years since Clark Kent graduated college and decided to travel the world.

He has been all over the place - Japan, West Africa, Venezuela, Russia, France and several dozen more countries. Along the way, he picked up sixty-two new languages (the benefit of an eidetic memory), worked twenty-five different jobs for local news companies, and wrote at least two-hundred articles, some of which got considerable buzz in the journalistic community.

But there was more to the trips than just travelling. It was soul-searching, in the purest sense. Searching that abruptly ended after an Earthquake in Japan, and the assassination of a Civil Rights Activist in West Africa.

Clark knows he shouldn't draw attention to himself - that he should keep his head down, keep his powers quiet, and keep himself safe. His parents taught him that much. But his parents also taught him to _help people_ \- that the world is is nothing but darkness without a little bit of altruism. How could he be expected to sit idle while people were in danger?

So he tried to help. And in the case of the Japan Earthquake, he actually saved a lot of lives. But he was nearly exposed - so he had to move on. From there, he travelled to West Africa, and got a little too deep into the coverage of a civil rights movement. When unnecessary violence resulted in the death of the movement's leader, Clark was forced to act. But people _saw _him. Saw him - his powers - clearly in the light of day.

At that point, Clark knew that he was a hopeless case. He couldn't do these things - travel and explore - without trying stop all the problems he was seeing. So he came home, to Smallville, where it is quiet; where no one will look for an alien masquerading as a midwestern boy.

But if he is honest with himself, he knows he hates the quiet.

Clark is tired of hiding. And that's why he came back, isn't it? To avoid his problems and hide. He's denying everything he is and everything he believes in. What if he just threw away discretion and became something more? Something powerful and inspiring? Inspiring of good? Could he do something like that?

As Clark Kent - the man - he can't. But as Kal-El? Who knows what Kal-El - the super-powered alien - can do?

He's been daydreaming. Always daydreaming. But what could you expect of someone who spends half his time in the clouds?

He just wants to be proud of who he is. To feel like he has some sort of purpose. But he knows about the danger that comes with that - aliens are hardly welcome on Earth, if most movies are an indication.

But it's the heavy, aching feeling in his heart that is bringing him crashing to the ground the most. How can he can save people if he is just as capable of hurting them? Lana is proof of that. He let her down, didn't he?

Right now, it is nighttime, and they are standing on the porch of his parents' house. Lana's eyes are finally on him again, her gaze expectant of a response from him, but he remains silent. What should he say? What _could_ he say? _I'm sorry that I broke your heart?_ _I'm sorry that, despite how much I care about you, I know that there's more to life than us? _

They're horrible things to even think, despite the truthfulness to them. Luckily, right now, Lana is doing most of the talking.

"How long are you staying?"

A beat. Then he tells her, "I don't know."

She chuckles. "Let me rephrase: would you _like_ to stay?"

The wording of the question is… awkward. How could she ask him that, after everything?

"What… what does that mean?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh, no, jeez... I don't mean 'would you like to stay _with me_.' I mean, are you _hoping_ to go again soon?"

"Oh," Clark breathes. "Then yes. I'm hoping to go."

Her stare is a bit icy when she says: "Did you find what you were looking for? While you were traveling, I mean."

"Not really, no," he answers honestly. He found good things, of course. Things he wouldn't trade. But not what he was looking for.

"Then what makes you think that leaving again will help you?" Lana demands, with visible vexation in her features. It's clear that she hasn't really forgiven him - it's written all over her face. But soon she is composing herself, her expression becoming neutral again. In fact, it's like the outburst never occurred in the first place.

"Sorry," she whispers. "That was a dumb thing to say. I'm just-"

"Lana… I know it's hard for you to understand what I'm trying to do…"

"You're right. I don't," she agrees. "It's been four years, Clark. Four years. Does the sight of my face upset you that much that you had to stay gone all that ti-?"

"Of course not," he interrupts quickly. "I wrote to you all the time. Just because we're not _together_ anymore…"

Now, _hurt_ crosses Lana's features, replacing the vexation as tears well up in her green eyes.

They always say that the break-up was _fine_. That they ended it on good terms. And in some ways, it's true. He loves her still, and vice versa. The emotions have never faded into something like hate or dislike.

But it just doesn't feel _right_ anymore - it doesn't feel right to be _in love_ with her, when they want such irreconcilable things in life. The core of their problem, he thinks, is that they don't share the same dreams. And Clark's too much of a dreamer to give his up. Even for love.

What could you expect of a boy who literally spends half his time in the clouds?

Clark exhales, closes his eyes, and starts again. "Maybe my actions seem pointless to you. And no, I haven't found what I was looking for. I haven't found the point - why I was sent here. My niche. But I think I know what to do now… and it doesn't involve staying in Smallville."

Lana doesn't look convinced. "So where? Where are you going?"

"Metropolis. I think that's where I can do the most good."

"Back to the old college town, huh?" she remarks.

"Doubt it will be the same. Metropolis - it's always changing."

Lana looks mildly wistful when she says, "So are you."

At this point, the following words are offered out of tradition more than anything else. He's not sure if they mean the same thing they once did.

"You could always come with me," Clark tells her.

She rejoins with her customary answer of: "And you could always stay."

They both know that those options are out of the question - they always have been. So they stand in silence for a little while, wondering what else there is to say. But then Lana once again speaks up, catching Clark off-guard.

"Your mother told me what you're planning on doing. That you're considering exposing yourself - your powers and your origins - to the world."

He doesn't answer right away, but eventually, he nods. "She told you I was back, didn't she? She wanted you to talk me out of it."

"I wanted to see you anyway. But yeah, I think that was her intention."

"You agree with her, then?"

"Yes," Lana asserts confidently. "I think that showing your face, what you are, has only one outcome - and it's the one that ends in fear, and capture, and death. I'll always love you Clark, and I love what you are, but the world may not agree with me - and I don't want you to suffer because of its cowardice. You don't deserve that. And you don't owe anyone anything."

"It's not about owing, Lana. It's about what's right - about changing the things that should be changed, when no one's willing to step up. Someone has to set some sort of example."

"We don't want to lose you, Clark. Just keep that in mind," Lana tells him. Then, she is placing a kiss on his cheek and walking away, her hands rubbing her forearms. Clark tries not to feel guilty. It's odd - how something that feels as subtle, cold, and stiff as guilt can also seem so forceful.

He heads inside the house and finds an empty kitchen - his parents must have gone to bed a while ago. Without much else to do, he goes upstairs to his room. There's a copy of _The Daily Planet _on his bed, crumpled from overuse - he has read it too many times.

"INVASION OF QURAC? BIALYAN NATIONALISTS MASSACRE HUNDREDS," it reads. "By Lois Lane, staff reporter."

Nowadays, it seems like no one is safe. Back in college, he was doing papers on Lois Lane. Her articles are some of his favorites, and that's not to mention that she is one of the youngest reporters out there, and one of the most successful. She might be one of the only reasons that he, as an unemployed freelance reporter, holds a paying subscription to the _Daily Planet_. Her work is _that_ good, and he tries to emulate it as much as he can.

But a few weeks ago, he heard that she was shot in the country of Bialya. He was relieved to hear that she survived, but she was _still_ critically injured… and the people in the town she was investigating were not so lucky.

The shooters have not been caught. And Clark cannot help feeling that, if he were not hiding, he could have _stopped_ it. Stopped it cold, before anyone died.

"_It is easy to deem ourselves 'good' when we compare ourselves to the people committing atrocities like these,_" Lois wrote in that article. "_But by sitting by and doing nothing - by offering sympathy and condolences in passing - we perpetuate our problem. The actions of bad people are not solely to blame for death. Ultimately, some blame must be assigned to the rest of us. Because though we may not pull the triggers, we always have the capability to take away the gun in the first place." _

Never has an article made him so ashamed. Ashamed of his hiding, of his fear, of his self-pity. He has so much to offer the world, if only he were brave enough.

But the world may not be brave enough to face _him_.

* * *

"I would've thought that you'd want the foreign correspondent job," Perry White says, scrutinizing Clark from the other side of the desk.

Nowadays, Clark wears thick-framed glasses and baggy suits and ugly hats to maintain discretion. But that's only when he's doing the mundane things. The Clark Kent-related things.

He meant for it to be a system. He'd be Clark Kent whenever he wasn't Kal-El. And Kal-El whenever he wasn't Clark Kent. And sure, he's done plenty of rescues so far in the Big Apricot, but he still hasn't garnered enough courage to fully reveal himself as Kal-El _at all_.

So much for his big plans. So much for inspiring people.

He's not hiding, exactly. He's still making a difference. But he _is_ an alien, after all. They - that is, everyone, everywhere - are all going to be afraid of him, if he fully reveals himself. And he doesn't want them to be.

_Maybe someday_, he keeps telling himself. _Maybe someday I'll show the world who I really am. _

But with every passing day, it sounds more and more like a lie.

"N-no, Mr. White. I-I'd very much like to stay in Metropolis. I-I love the city," Clark tells Mr. White in the softest, most tremulous voice he can muster. The stammering is intentional - a ruse. Even to Clark, the tone sounds cowardly and weak - completely unlike everything that he considers himself.

But then again… Clark is a coward, isn't he? All this hiding... he's still letting it happen.

Perry is currently staring at Clark in disbelief, like he cannot fathom how _this guy -_ this stammering mess - is the same reporter who boldly covered earthquakes and shootouts and gang violence and more. But Clark knows that's the whole point of the mild-mannered persona. If someone happens to see him make a rescue, he wants it to be beyond their imagination that _Clark Kent_ was his or her rescuer.

After all, it'll be hard to relate a chunky guy in glasses to a man in a red cape. (Clark has always considered the cape silly, but it came in his ship with him, so he felt obligated to use it for _something_ \- other than gathering dust in the cellar, of course).

"I'll tell ya what, Kent," Mr. White begins, gesturing with the cigar balanced between his fingers. "Despite how spineless you appear in person, no offense, I can't deny that your stuff is high quality. And I'd like to give it a shot at being Daily Planet-level high quality."

"Thank you, s-sir. It means a lot."

"Y'know, I'd _still_ prefer to start you out on the foreign beat to test your mettle. But if you're so keen on the city desk, you're actually in luck. My top reporter - Lois Lane - encountered some nasty people in the field. I 'spose you've heard of her?"

"Yes, sir. I wrote a paper on one of her articles for my senior thesis."

"Good. I hope you've learned a lot from her then, especially since Lane's gonna be on leave for awhile, and I'll need someone to fill the gap she's leaving. If you're up for it, I'll let you act as her substitute for the time being. And who knows? If I like your stuff, I'll consider adding you to the staff permanently. Do we have a deal?"

Clark extends his hand for Perry White to shake. "Yes, of course. Thank you Mr. White."

Perry engages in the gesture. "Jeez, Kent. For someone who can hardly get a sentence out, you sure have a firm handshake."

* * *

Living in Metropolis and working at the Planet becomes a sort of routine. First, Clark finds a cheap apartment that's not too far from the building where he works. He supposes that he lucks out a bit, given the location that he settles on. The apartment complex he chooses would normally be way above his payroll, or his bank account, which is woefully small for even a normal farmer's son. But apparently the last tenant was quite the drug addict, and left his rooms in a smelly, tarnished, disastrous state.

The landlord advertised it as a "fixer upper." But the cigarette burns in the walls and the ashes embedded in the tiles indicate that "fixer upper" is nothing but a euphemism for what the place really is - which is in need of a complete remodeling.

It is yet another situation that makes Clark grateful for his superpowers. It takes a few hours even with superspeed, but he manages to replace all the damaged furniture and carpentry, and scrub the bad smell out of the carpets. Soon enough, with all his belongings moved inside, the place starts to feel _a bit_ like home. Not _entirely_ like home… but a _bit_.

He doesn't know anyone in this place, though. In the city. He never really stayed in touch with his college friends, so there's no one he can even talk to. He's always been afraid of people discovering his secret, so he refuses to let strangers get close to him.

Lonely. It's very lonely, even in a city this big.

Meanwhile, at work, Clark is constantly assigned stories, and he pours his heart and soul into the articles he writes about them. Perry nitpicks him a bit at first, but after a while, the editor decides he likes Clark's work. He then lets Clark start working with the photographic journalist that Lois usually uses - James Olsen.

James is rather quirky, Clark can admit. First, the guy claims that he hates being called Jimmy. But when Clark calls him _James_, he never responds, mostly because he's so used to everyone else calling him Jimmy. So Clark is forced to revert to the tendencies that everyone else on the staff has - that is, calling James Olsen… Jimmy Olsen.

Jimmy is still in college, but since the kid won some sort of major photography competition at a young age, he is currently enjoying the benefits of a long-term, paying internship at the Planet. And Clark can see why a prestigious reporter like Lois Lane took a shine to him - his photos are excellent, with perfect framing, composition, etc. And even more importantly, Jimmy is nearly fearless in the field, which would be good for someone like Lois Lane, who always seeks almost ludicrously perilous stories.

Sometimes Clark hears anecdotes about the young photographer's adventures with Lois Lane. They're intriguing, to say the least.

"You think this is dangerous, Clark? Ha! You should see me working with Lois," Jimmy once exclaims, following their stake-out during a drug deal. "We got ourselves into all sorts of tough spots. Confronting crime lords, trips into the sewers, busting police corruption. You know… sometimes I think she uses me _because_ we're friends. Given how many times my life's been threatened… well… anyone else would probably sue her."

"Do you like working with Ms. Lane, Jimmy?"

"Lois? Of course. I mean, it's probably not _healthy_ for me to work with her. Sometimes I wonder if she's crazy, or has a death wish. But you gotta think deeper into why she gets herself into such trouble. I figure that that she likes to prove things to the world - likes to prove that someone's willing to stand up and speak the truth, even if it means dying. It's pretty brave, in my opinion."

"Yeah…" Clark replied contemplatively, fighting that creeping shame in his gut. "It is."

Of course, Clark has been far from apathetic lately. He spends his free time making rescues in the city. When a subway's brakes fail, he is there to stop it, allowing all the passengers to get home safely. Later on, when a little girl falls head-first out of a window, Clark arrives just in time to catch her and bring her back to her bedroom. A truck that nearly crashes into an orphanage is redirected and slowed down as a result of his strength and his actions. He stops muggings, and returns stolen belongings, and saves a group of kids from drowning. They're important things to do, he knows.

But they don't feel like enough.

The people he saves get little more than glimpses of him, which is his intention. Every time he considers revealing himself, fear grips him. He's so afraid that the city will turn against him.

At some point during his first months at the Daily Planet, Jimmy comes over to work on an article with him. It's then that he first hears that he happened to buy the apartment that neighbors Lois Lane's.

God, Clark must seem like a stalker. But it really was a coincidence. He never meant to live right next to her apartment. But apparently...fate wanted things to be that way.

* * *

"Hey! Hold the doors!" a rather orotund voice - loud and commanding with a hint of snarkiness - calls as the elevator's doors begin to slide shut. Clark was well on his way to work, prepared to descend to the ground floor like he does every morning. This time, however, his normal routine is upheaved as he is forced to stick his hand in the gap between the door and the wall, signaling for the sensor to reopen the elevator.

And when it does as he expects, he is greeted by the sight of a stranger whose appearance seems to instantly grab his attention.

Clark's parents always taught him that it's rude and ungentlemanly to stare intrusively at women, but in the case of the lady who enters the elevator, he finds it difficult to adhere to their advice, no matter how hard he tries. Because this woman is, for lack of a better word, truly beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

It's probably a different sort of beauty than a model or an actress would prefer - her face is shrewd and sharp, somewhat lacking in elegance or softness. But despite that, there's still something distinctive and hypnotizing about her - something that makes him unable to look away.

Maybe it's the visible confidence in her stance - in her squared shoulders and raised chin - that makes her look incredibly tall and imposing, despite her possession of little more than average height. Or perhaps it is her features - which are probably the most intriguing parts of her. There's something challenging and mysterious in her arched eyebrows and dark eyes - something that perhaps makes her seem a bit dangerous, which is an impression that is only furthered by her midnight-black hair and dark red lipstick.

Oddly enough, Clark thinks that she is so ravishing that her beauty is hardly affected by her expression, which is currently so sour that she appears to have smelled something horrible. (Clark is left nervously hoping that he is not the cause.)

"Thanks," the woman mumbles as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

What is she thanking him for? Oh right… holding the door. He hardly remembers.

In response, he tremulously tells her that it's not a problem, but she seems so engrossed in the doors of the elevator that he doubts that she heard him.

It is only when she turns slightly that he sees something glinting near her stomach - a press pass. The name printed on it catches his eye, and he can do nothing but gape even more when he processes it.

It reads _Lois Lane_.

_The_ Lois Lane.

It's been months since she left Metropolis, but now she must be back. Finally. After everything that he has heard and studied about her, he is finally meeting her… and God… he knew that Lois was supposed to be an incredibly intelligent and skilled reporter… but no one ever told him that she is this… this… _attractive_ as well.

And normally, women like this - _dangerous_ women - aren't his type, mostly because he finds himself far too timid to accommodate them. His life is dangerous enough, and he's a farmboy who tries to never say an unkind word about _anyone_, so confrontational personalities are usually so contradictory to his own.

Of course, he doesn't _exactly_ have a type - he has only dated one woman in his life, and up until a few years ago, he was reasonably certain that he was going to marry that woman. So yes, for the longest time, he has always preferred… well… Lana Lang, and her effortless, modest, and unquantifiable loveliness.

Lois Lane is not like that. Striking. She is literally _striking_, like a missile or some other deadly weapon. And if anything, he is left awed that she is affecting him in this way. He has hardly said anything to her, and she has hardly said anything to him, but his heart is hammering in his chest like a jackhammer.

What _is_ this? Has he lost his mind?

Clark doesn't know what to do. Should he say something to her? They're probably heading to the same place - namely, the Daily Planet. Maybe they should share a taxi. Maybe he should ask her for advice on his articles. (Should he tell her that she's gorgeous? God, no, of course not! That's weird. That's _creepy_. What is wrong with him?)

Be professional, he tells himself. _Professional_.

Maybe he should ask her to autograph his copy of the Qurac article. He does have a first-printing of it, after all, and it's a Pulitzer winner now. Maybe he should start small… just mention that he works at the Planet as well, and that he loves her work, and that she's a big inspiration to him. Yes - that sounds like a good idea. They should start off on the right foot (and he shouldn't be creepy, for God's sake).

Clark takes a deep breath. Then, he asks: "Excuse me, but are you Lois Lane?"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_, Clark chastises himself internally. _Of course she is! It's written on her press pass!_

She does not look at him as she replies, "Yeah… but why do _you_ know that?"

"Well, we're-" Clark begins, but she cuts him off, her eyes still glued to the sleek, metal doors of the elevator.

"Do not say _neighbors_. That's no excuse for prying into my personal business. I've never even met you before, so there is no 'we.'"

Clark is left rather stunned. Has he… has he _done_ something to her before? Maybe she has mistaken him for someone else? Normally people aren't so… so _rude_ when you try to make small talk. But against all logic, here she is, acting a bit accusatory. He tries not to be offended. Maybe this is a misunderstanding.

Would explaining himself help? Would they be on better terms if he told her that they're co-workers now? He hopes so.

"Of course not, Miss Lane. But what I'm trying to tell you is -"

The doors of the elevator open with a ding, and Lois runs out so quickly that Clark would think that superspeed was involved, if he didn't know better. She doesn't so much as grant him a look over her shoulder as she sprints to a taxi outside and takes off at top speed.

Clark can only stare after her in disbelief. He's not sure what caused such a disastrous first meeting - whether it was him or her. (God, it was probably him. After all, he looks ridiculous in this old suit and this hat, and he probably seemed like a creepy stalker with his endless gawking.) It's totally plausible that she just doesn't have time for the likes of Clark, who, on the surface, seems about as interesting as a piece of wet paper. But after what just occurred, Clark can only conclude one thing:

That thing that people say… about never meeting your heroes? It must be true, if Lois Lane is any indication. Because your heroes may not end up respecting you nearly as much you respect them.

(Even if your heroes end up being far more beautiful than you ever imagined.)

* * *

"I'm sorry," Lois later apologizes, when they are in a cab, heading to a Lexcorp press conference. "But the last guy who lived in your apartment was quite the perverted drug-dealer. It only takes one bad neighbor to ruin your whole perception. Guess I assumed you were the next Walter White."

Clark doesn't know who Walter White is, and when he asks, they somehow end up getting into an argument about the thematic meaning of Greek mythology.

Luckily, he has managed to calm himself down around her - at least enough to speak to her like a normal human being. (Which is funny, considering that he's not human, so he supposes that it's a bigger accomplishment than it initially seems.)

But _so what _if she's beautiful or incredibly accomplished? She doesn't have to like him, and vice versa. (Of course, he is relieved that she didn't _really_ find anything disagreeable about him). The point, however, is that he really should be somewhat offended that she was so apt to judge him. But for some unfathomable reason, there's a strange part of him that admires her _even when_ she's being bad-mannered, mostly because it indicates how little she cares about what other people think. And as someone who spends half his time worrying about how the world might react to his origins, he can only _wish_ to possess the same confidence.

And it's _totally_ not like his heart pounded especially fast when she gave a speech defending herself to the entire Daily Planet staff. Alright, he's lying to himself. His heart is being unruly and downright confusing. But he chalks it up to surprise and tries to move on. Maybe it's just that he's never seen someone so… so _assertive _and fearless before.

It's startling. Maybe a little breathtaking.

This is _ridiculous_. He hardly knows her.

He puts effort into making small-talk, discussing his tiny hometown of Smallville, which she seems to find a bit hilarious. That, he actually takes a bit of offense to, simply because he _can't help_ that he's from a small town. In fact, he's _proud_ of where he comes from (his town, not necessarily his planet).

Nonetheless, she teases him by calling him "Smallville." And he can't call her "Metropolis," because firstly, it'd be strange, since he's not suave enough to make it work, unlike her. Secondly, "Metropolis" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

* * *

Clark really doesn't like to eavesdrop on people with his super-hearing. He avoids it at every possible opportunity. But given the unsettling way that Lex looked at Lois, even when she seemed so disinterested in him… well, Clark just wants to make sure that nothing goes wrong. He hates to be judgemental - he really does - but Clark can't help thinking that there's something simply sinister about Lex Luthor. Something that he doesn't trust.

His suspicions are nearly proven correct when he overhears Lois's account of what happened - of Lex's involvement in the massacre and by extension, her injury. Suddenly, there is anger pumping in his veins that he can hardly suppress - anger at both Lex and himself. Because at the heart of everything, Clark feels like the bullet wound in Lois's shoulder is partially his fault. He could have stopped it, or stopped Lex, or stopped _something_ to ease the sufferings of everyone involved in that whole catastrophe. But he _didn't_, even though he had the power to do so.

He hears Lois storm out angrily, and then Lex is back in the press conference. Fueled by anger, Clark works hard to formulate some sort of question that will really make Lex (as Perry calls it) _squirm_. Because if Lois plans to expose what Lex really is, then Clark should help her.

Just as he comes up with the perfect question, something grabs his attention - something that is audible, with or without super-hearing. Explosions.

* * *

There's no time to worry about maintaining discretion - about remaining unseen. He cannot protect his identity… not unless he allows innocent people to die, which he will _never_ do. Nothing is worth that, and he would never forgive himself for being so selfish. So he puts on the costume at super-speed, and sets out to save the people in danger.

Evidently, fate has chosen to expose "Kal-El" to the world without his choosing - forcing his hand when he seemed too reluctant. It's not exactly irony, but it's certainly something to consider irritating.

Right now, the overhang near the lobby of the Lexcorp Towers is collapsing as a result of structural instability in the underground shipping lanes. He flies there just in time to keep the entire thing from falling apart, which would crush the pedestrians below.

He can hear the people exclaiming below. Their excitement, he knows, is not just because their lives are endangered. No, they are pointing and yelling about him - the man in the red cape, who is floating in midair and holding up tons of material with his bare hands.

"It's about to fall apart! Everybody move!" he yells to them, and most of them do as he says. But there's one person who stays put, and he would yell _more_ for them to _go_, but the overhang is cracking in so many places now that he can hardly hold it.

Lois Lane is standing below him, taking pictures. At first, he thinks she's being unbelievably reckless. But then he remembers that he's a reporter, and if he saw a flying super-powered man other than himself, his first instinct would be to get the story as well.

He's so distracted by the thought that he hardly notices a huge chunk of debris break off from the rest of the overhang, hurtling down toward Lois.

Clark knows that he only has seconds if he is going to save her. The rest of the area under the overhang is clear, and the whole structure is beyond fixing.

It takes milliseconds for him to let go of his burden, and in the time that the overhang begins completely collapsing, Clark speeds toward Lois. It is then that he manages to scoop her into his arms and fly her out of harm's way. Ultimately, he is fast enough - thank God, and the overhang crashes to the ground behind them, leaving them unscathed as they float above the ground.

Even when they are safe, Lois's eyes are still squeezed shut, as if she expected to be killed and did not wish to witness her own demise. He wonders if he should say something to her - perhaps assure her that she's alright, and that he's not going to hurt her, or perhaps something more profound. But frankly, he is so worried that she will recognize him and become _terrified_ that all of those words escape him entirely.

But when her eyes do eventually open...and their gazes lock… his worries seem to dissipate. And suddenly, Clark's heart begins to thump at a million beats per minute. This, from her, right now, is not just a simple _look._ No, this is more. There's nothing in her eyes that suggest fear, or confusion, or anger. Right now, there is admiration and gratitude shining in the depths of her brown eyes. Intelligence. Wonderment. _Humanity_.

But beyond that, there is a sort of… hypnosis in their gaze. Neither of them are looking away, or seeming shy or ashamed.

Clark thinks it's the first time she has looked at him. Really, actually looked at him. And he's relieved to find that she likes what she sees, especially since he spends so much time making Clark Kent - the fake version of himself - pathetic and uninteresting.

Eventually, she tears his eyes away from him and begins stammering rather incoherently.

Clark tries to _not_ find it endearing.

* * *

Lois is angry at him. He wrote the story about himself (aka the flying man), even though she was prepared to do the same thing. If he's being honest with himself, he knows that writing about himself probably wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but since his choice in revealing his existence was taken away, he should at least have a chance to explain his own deeds.

Besides, his career needs this more than Lois's does. She already won a Pulitzer. He's still trying to make a reputation for himself.

Nonetheless, it might the first time she has ever been out-scooped, and she is not taking it well. If anything, she seems to actually _hate_ Clark Kent now, much to his chagrin. Even if she is grateful toward Superman (thankfully, she has not figured that they are one and the same).

Jimmy has been caught in the middle, since he is friends with them both. Clark keeps asking him whether Lois has forgiven him yet, since she's supposed to be his partner, after all, but Jimmy informs him that she's still seething.

At some point, Perry holds a meeting, during which he orders the Planet staff to launch a full investigation into Clark's (or Kal-El's) identity. Of course, that makes Clark nervous out of his wits, but he figures that they'll never learn anything of substance. Eventually (he hopes) that he will fade into the background, and people will forget about him, or consider him some sort of hoax.

But then of course Lois Lane has done her research, and is _somehow_ able to drag up every single rescue he has ever made in Metropolis. Which means that it'll be very hard for the city to deem him a hoax.

"How… how did you find all that?" Clark stammers as she finishes reading her research. If she was able to determine all that information this quickly, what's stopping her from uncovering his origins, or his secret identity?

Maybe Lois Lane is _too_ good for his own good.

What's worse is that, despite the threat she is posing and her icy response of, "It's called investigative journalism You all should try it sometime," he still cannot bring himself to fully resent her.

He's worried, of course. And significant parts of him want her to _stop_ her investigation. He even suggests that they all take it easy on said investigation - to keep the "mystery" of the flying man's identity, he claims, even though he is simply trying to protect himself. But Perry refuses him, and Clark determines that his situation is hopeless. Someone is going to figure out that he's an alien, and then he'll fall victim to government agents and laboratories and general, widespread fear.

These are the things that Lana tried to warn him against.

Meanwhile, Clark is distracted by the fact that the people who caused the shipping lane explosion have escaped, and no one has a lead on them. Everyone in a conference room full of reporters is forgetting that fact, so he reminds them. Perhaps it will shift their attention away from Kal-El.

"Don't worry, Kent," Lois tells him. "I saw one of the guys and gave a description the police. They'll have the investigation under control."

Clark can only exclaim: "You _saw_ them?"

She's the only person thus far who knows anything, and if he is going to find those criminals…

He'll need to talk to her. But not as Clark - not if he is planning to capture these men as Kal-El.

Ultimately, that is not the name his alter ego goes by. Lois decides to call him "Superman." Half of Clark is flattered that she thinks him… well… 'super' enough to name him that. The other half thinks that name is a bit on the arrogant side - he's only stronger _physically_. That doesn't make him better, or more 'super' than anyone else. If anything, he feels a bit more cowardly than the average person.

But maybe Lois sees something in him that makes him special - something even _beyond_ his strength.

* * *

He's relieved to find that the city has reacted… _encouragingly_ to his presence, which is the exact opposite of what he expected. Of course, he feels that Lois deserves some credit. Her article on his deeds was nothing short of glowing, and now there's gratitude coursing through his veins whenever he sees her (on top of the other emotions he already feels for her, whatever they may be).

Thus, when he stops a hostage situation, a nearby crowd actually _cheers_ for him. _Cheers. _At first he thought that they were just glad that the crisis had passed, and for that reason, Clark had to suppress the urge to cheer right along with them. But then he realized that their approval was aimed at him, the so-christened _Superman_, in particular. It's so relieving that he wants to cry - people are not afraid. They believe in him, because apparently, Lois Lane has decided to believe in him.

Of course, they don't know what he really is… but now at least he can _hope_ they will understand.

As he flies away from the scene, he notices that Lois is in the crowd. He can't help making eye contact with her in an attempt to express some of his gratitude. He doesn't know if his message gets across, but he hopes. For a while, that's all he can really do when it comes to her. Hope.

* * *

Once she realized that she had been ignorant to Clark's existence for so long, Cat Grant - the society columnist - actually decided to take an interest in him. As they engage in small-talk, Clark figures that it's just because she feels _bad_ for him - that she's taking pity on him because she considers him a sad, socially-awkward, lonely introvert in need of a friend. The gesture is… sweet, he supposes, but a bit misguided.

And okay, he may be a _bit_ introverted, but to his credit, he _was_ declared both homecoming and prom king at his high school, so he isn't exactly Mr. Unpopular. People used to always talk about how charming he was (though Clark preferred to be notable for his kindness, not his charm). And since he won the State Football Championship for his school, a lot of girls (and maybe even some guys) in Smallville swooned over him pretty consistently, and he was pretty much friends with _everyone_.

So he's relatively confident that, when he actually tries, he is far from being a hopeless case in the social department.

But nowadays he has to make a conscious effort to be boring and unattractive. Since everyone knows about Kal-El - or "Superman" - he has to work even harder to maintain a secret identity.

His conversation with Cat carries into the break room, where he finds Lois drinking out of his coffee cup. He tries not to make a big deal about it, but it _is_ a mug that his parents gave to him as a gift, so he's rather protective of it. But she proves to be rational about the whole thing, and returns it to him easily. It's surprising, perhaps, especially since Jimmy has warned him against questioning Lois's actions (apparently she gets very defensive). Maybe she's being polite, just for him…?

Yeah, right.

Silence engulfs the room, and Clark feels like he should say something to Lois. Maybe that she looks nice today? Well, that'd be rude, wouldn't it? He hasn't complimented Cat, and she looks pretty nice too. Maybe he should compliment them both? Or would they think he is trying to flirt with both of them? God, why is this so complicated...?

"So Lois," Cat says, beating him to the punch. "From what I've read in your articles, you've seen Superman up close."

"Yeah, I guess I have."

Great. Now they're talking about _him_, with him in the room, which makes him so nervous about saying the _wrong thing_ that he has no choice but to remain silent. At first, he thinks that they're just going to discuss her article, which he wouldn't mind, but then the conversation descends into something else. Something far more embarrassing.

"She says his six pack is like 100% visible through that suit he wears. Is that true?"

In that moment, Clark has an inexplicable urge to crawl into one of the break room cabinets and shut himself inside. Maybe for a few hours. Or days. Just until his blush passes.

"Yeah. I guess you can see it pretty clearly," Lois replies after a few seconds of consideration.

Well, what exactly does that mean, Clark wonders? Does that mean she's been looking at him in a way that suggests an interest beyond the journalistic? Or has she noticed his physical attributes in a clinical '_I-wonder-why-this-guy-is-so-strong'_ sort of way?

He shouldn't care so much. He really shouldn't. But when it comes to Lois… he just can't help caring for some inexplicable reason.

But if she is looking at him in a way that suggests attraction… well… Clark might be slightly okay with that. He doesn't know _why_ he's okay with that… but he is.

When Cat tries to move on to the topic of Superman's butt, Clark figures that they're crossing the line a bit, and clears his throat to bring them back to reality. It works, though Cat glares at him a bit.

"There's still so much we don't know about him, though," Lois points out, referring to Superman yet again, despite the subject change. "I'd trade my press pass to get an interview with him."

"Who wouldn't?"

"No, Cat, not because of _that_." (Clark tries not to consider what '_that'_ is as Lois continues). "I want a real interview. I mean, the police are considering putting out a warrant for him, for vigilantism."

"That's crazy!"

"Well, lately he's been stopping robberies and other things, so it's no wonder. But there are other reasons too. For all we know, he could be some sort of human weapon, trying to gain our trust before he turns against us. Maybe if he told us more about himself, we could make a better judgement."

Clark has been playing with the idea of agreeing to an interview for some time. He can't interview himself for fear of suspicions as to how, exactly, he managed to contact Superman. But Lois? Well, she's probably one of the best reporters in the world, so if there's anyone to whom he should entrust his story, it's her.

But an interview will mean something more significant. She will most certainly ask him how he received his powers, and he will be forced to tell the truth - that he is an alien. That he was not born here, and is not human. People will probably hate him when they find out, but a part of him would rather they know now, due to his own choice to reveal the truth, then have them find out later and resent his deception.

Right now, Clark already tells enough lies, given his secret identity. If Metropolis is truly ready to embrace him and his powers, they will learn to accept his origins. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

He just wants people to trust him. That's why Superman doesn't wear a mask - why he never has, even when he only granted the world mere glimpses of himself. The truth is, everyone needs to know and understand an important belief that Clark holds. It is the idea that differences - even profound differences, like being from another planet - do not make someone a monster.

It is Clark's hope that he can prove that belief by being Superman - by helping people.

But he wonders if he should wait. Yes, he probably should wait. Until he creates a better reputation for himself. People are still adjusting to his presence - they don't need to adjust to the revelation that he is an extraterrestrial as well.

Still, he _needs_ to catch the people responsible for the Lexcorp disaster, and since the police are doing nothing, Lois is his only chance to learn their identities. Apparently she saw one of the bombers - and that's information that Superman _absolutely_ has to know. So maybe he will meet with her, and _he_ will ask the questions instead.

* * *

Lois was initially surprised to see him - Superman - floating above her, intent on learning about what she witnessed during the Lexcorp disaster. But somehow, she gets him to agree to an interview in exchange for her information, so that's what they're doing right now.

He, on the other hand, receives his fair share of surprise when he learns that she smokes. In fact, it makes him a bit sad. He can see the chemicals contained in cigarettes with his vision… witness the way they kill human cells so easily. It sickens him that she exposes herself to this sort of unnecessary poison, but he knows that she must have a good reason why she does so. Maybe one day he'll be brave enough to ask her.

In regard to the interview, he knows that she'll treat him fairly. But he still worries, even if he feels a little braver after she asks him what his favorite dessert flavor is. When she does that, he can't help laughing - the question is so out of place, so _not_ what he would expect a professional interviewer like Lois Lane to ask, that it nearly forces him into hysterics. But he controls himself.

She really is something else. Something…(_wonderful_? He can't say that. He hardly _knows_ her).

After revealing that he likes both chocolate and vanilla, she moves onto the important stuff. It's difficult - maybe even the hardest thing he has ever done - to just articulate that he is not from this world. He falters a bit at first, but then he manages to spit out words that… adequately describe his situation.

"I'm not human. So let's just get that out in the open. I'm not human and never have been. From what I understand, I'm from another planet. I landed here when I was a child, sent from a place that I know very little about."

He doesn't know what he expected from her, exactly. Fear? Disbelief? Suspicion? An accusation that he is a liar?

But she demonstrates none of those things. Her gaze is steady as she listens to his words, and when he is finished speaking, she takes barely a pause before she says to him (unflinchingly, he might add): "Fine. What planet?"

He does not understand how she could be so unfazed by this information. It's terrifying to find out that someone - anyone, including yourself - is an alien. So why and how is she accepting this fact far more calmly and easily than he ever did?

Oh, yes. Lois Lane is definitely something else. Something (he'll say it) wonderful.

* * *

Lois provides the information he was looking for, and he catches the men who blew up those shipping lanes. When he confronts them, he doesn't _try_ to scare them, but ultimately, they become fearful enough to offer full confessions to the police. Maybe he displayed too much power. If only they knew that that power is only fraction of what he is truly capable, but will never unleash.

Clark Kent gets a slice of the glory too, since he writes the article on the criminals' capture. He is unsurprised and disgusted when he learns that Lex Luthor hired them to sell his own weapons on the black market, with the destruction of the shipping lanes covering his involvement (and incidentally earning him significant insurance reimbursement).

Clark's article would otherwise tear Lex's reputation to shreds, if the world wasn't so distracted.

Distracted by the news that Superman is an alien, that is.

He tries to ignore the initial reactions, which range in form and intensity. Some are demands that he leave their planet or be killed, while others are warm welcomes to Earth or ridiculous questions about where he's hiding Elvis. Thus, he elects to focus on something more important than the backlash - namely, finding evidence against Lex. His motivation to do so only increases when Lois decides to help him.

After defending him from a Lexcorp crony determined to (violently) dissuade him from following up on his article (did he mention that she's _fearless_?), Lois offers to work on his piece against Lex as Clark's _partner. _Clearly, this was a surprising development, especially since her behavior toward him (Clark Kent, not Superman) lately has been rather hostile.

Therefore, he tries not to get worked up over the fact that she wants to be partners with him. It doesn't _really_ mean anything, except that she is willing to go to any lengths to avenge the deaths of those victims in Qurac. And he respects her resolution to do that wholeheartedly.

But it's certainly nice to know that she has ceased hating Clark Kent for out-scooping her. And now, he can hope a bit that they'll eventually become friends. As Lois Lane and Clark Kent, or Lois Lane and Superman. Somehow, he thinks that she must like at least one version of him.

They start to work closely together. And throughout it all, his maintenance of the Clark Kent persona slips a little. She likes to make jokes - to be sarcastic and tease him. And Clark has a decent sense of humor too - one that gets so little exercise these days. So sometimes a little snark will sneak out of him to challenge her own.

He knows that he should practice better control of himself. But she always seems to like him and treat him better when he's being _himself_, not fake, mild-mannered Clark Kent.

And soon, his developing friendship with Lois becomes a struggle between Clark Kent, Superman, and the real him - the him that gets sidelined when he is forced to singularly adopt one of the other personas. It's a bit maddening.

But because of his hard work as Clark Kent, he _almost_ (emphasis on the almost) doesn't notice the fear with which some people now regard Superman, the alien. There have been instances in which people refuse to touch or approach him, apprehensive of catching some alien disease. This is not to mention the bigotry - the people carrying signs that demand that he leave or die. Of course, their behavior won't stop him from saving lives, but he'd be lying if he said that these opinions and beliefs didn't affect him.

But there are good people, too. People who voice their gratitude for Superman's actions. And that means the world.

Meanwhile, Clark Kent and Lois Lane make plans. Chase leads. Lois has a contact named Morris Colon that they plan on using.

If they keep it up, they'll hopefully have Lex behind bars relatively soon.

Hopefully.

* * *

He heard that the military was mobilizing a force against him long before they actually arrived, but he never regarded the threat they posed with much fear. Now that his origins and existence are revealed, he is almost completely done hiding - he refuses to cower anymore, for any reason. Not even to give into the government's new demands to him- he will certainly not allow the military to turn him into lab rat by surrendering to them. He has done nothing wrong, and to yield to them would set a horrible precedent. What if, by some off chance, there are more of his people - aliens - out there? If he turns himself in, then the military may think that it's okay to mistreat anyone who is 'drastically different.' He respects the government, but he knows that lines must be drawn in terms of what can and cannot be done.

So he has resolved to take a stand. But he will also be peaceful. Clark has no intention of taking lives or picking fights - he simply wants to explain himself, and achieve peace. If he can help it, he will not even throw a punch.

For a while, he banks on the expectation that he will be able to negotiate with Samuel Lane. After all, the man is Lois's father, so how bad could he really be? To Clark, it is likely that General Lane is a sensible man who has been misguided by Lex Luthor - the person who asked him to come to Metropolis to eliminate the 'alien threat.'

Clark has taken up the habit of eavesdropping on Lex. It's not a good thing to do, he knows, and he regrets that. But he cannot let Lex's actions go unaddressed, and he has to know what's actually going on if he wants to stop them.

It was lucky that he heard Lex's phone conversations with Washington. Otherwise, he might have been taken off guard.

Ultimately, he ends up taken off guard anyway, because Clark falls victim to something far more deadly than Lex's machinations - an overestimation in humanity's capability for good. Because Sam Lane ends up being not just stubborn, but pigheaded and bigoted. No words can alter his philosophy - which is evidently that anything nonhuman is _deadly, bad, wrong, _and _unnatural. _

"You're an illegal alien, son," the General asserts through a bullhorn, with no hint of regret or doubt. "Not even from this planet. You have no right to live among us."

Clark argues that he is a human in the ways that count - that he feels and thinks and loves and does everything that regular humans do… except with additional abilities that most people do not possess. But General Lane dismisses his arguments so easily that Clark figures that he wasn't listening at all.

Clark can see where Lois gets her stubborness from, but he can only wonder how it was diluted enough to make her the accepting, tolerant, and moral person that she is today. It's no wonder why she does not get along with her father.

The General offers one more chance for him surrender to a life in a laboratory, which Clark figures is a bluff. They're in a populated area, and no evacuation has occurred. Surely they would not actually attack him?

But he is wrong.

So the General's tanks and soldiers fire at him, and though he is supposedly indestructible, Clark has never discovered… well… to what degree his invulnerability operates. He can survive bullets, sure, but can he survive tank shells? What about electrified nets? These are the things that the General's attack tests, and throughout it all, Clark is flailing and terrified. At one point, he even has to use his heat vision - his most terrifying power, even to himself - to free his body from the aforementioned electric nets. And when everyone gets over their awe and fear at the ability, and realizes that the nets don't work, the soldiers switch to the tanks.

Soon enough, he is wondering whether he can survive a building falling on top of him, like the ones around him threaten to do - much to his horror. The tank shells may miss him for a while, with his speed and flight, but they have to hit _something_, and the buildings and their residents suffer for it.

Unfortunately, he lets himself get distracted between rescuing civilians and dodging the artillery. A tank shell hits him - and then another one. The worst one hits him in the ear, and the concussive force on his sensitive super-hearing renders him so helpless that he can do nothing but fall to the ground.

For several moments, he is dazed and incapacitated. And he knows that he _can't _be. The military is attacking him… he has to get up… he has to defend himself…

But there, on the ground, he realizes that turning himself in may be the more selfless thing to do. After all, all this destruction… was caused because of him… just to capture him…

He considers surrendering when he sees someone coming out of the dust that fills the air as a result of the all the weapons' blasting.

"Lois? What are you doing?" he demands fearfully as she runs toward him. The last thing he wants is for her to end up as collateral damage for his mistakes. God, he would never be able to live with himself if she were to… were to…

He rises to his feet, intending to fly her out of harm's way, but before he can, she is doing something that he does not initially understand. Lois places herself in front of him, facing the throng of soldiers with her arms outstretched to her sides.

She's...she's protecting him? _Him?_ He doesn't _need_ protecting, though. Why would she do this? _Why_?

Lois's father thinks that he has taken her hostage, but such is far from the case, and Lois tells him that. If anything, Clark would prefer that Lois stay as far away from him as possible when he is facing perilous situations such as these.

"Lois, this is too dangerous," he tells her "Go back with-"

General Lane interrupts and tells her something with similar meaning, but delivers the words far less politely.

She does not budge. Her limbs are rigid and steadfast and resolved. And there is no doubt, no fear in her voice when she declares, "No."

It's just pure, unadulterated courage and determination. And Clark doesn't think that he has heard such a simple word uttered like that - uttered in such a way that it causes his breath to actually catch in his throat.

Her father asks her to leave again, and so does Clark, though the latter is not as forceful this time. Lois's presence, even when she denies them both, is too distracting for him to concentrate properly.

Clark cranes his neck so that he can get a look at her face, and when he sees her, despite her being turned away from him, he is stunned - left breathless. Her eyebrows are knitted together with ferocity, but there is understanding in her eyes, clear as day. The dark brown hair that usually tumbles over her shoulders is whipping around her face with nearly as much fury as her face betrays toward her father, but she does not react to it.

Clark always thought she was beautiful, but she has never looked as beautiful as she does in this moment. She looks like some sort of archangel, or maybe some Joan of Ark, and yes...Clark is definitely thinking that she will never appear as magnificent as she does now,

But ultimately he is wrong. Because then… then she opens up her mouth.

"How many times have we, as a species, punished undeserving people for _existing_? For being _different_?" Lois asks them rhetorically, glancing at the soldiers with mild disgust. "I mean, are you under some impression that this is _okay? _That this is _righteous? _Because this-" She gestures to Superman, to the sky and to the ground. "This is the hand he was dealt. He can't change where he was sent, can't change who he is. But he's still a person - he thinks and moves and feels. We have no right to treat him this way."

Her voice is ringing out like a bell through the streets, and everyone is entranced by it. And Clark… Clark is left most astounded of them all. There are guns pointing at this woman, with the government backing them, but she is still so committed to protecting him. In all this time, she has not even budged. She cares for him that much… that much….

"Besides," she continues. "since when do we kill people for being Good Samaritans? So what if he can do things that the rest of us can't? We don't kill people for being the best athletes or singers or artists. Yet you are hunting him for being better than the rest of the human race in more than a physical sense. He has morals… integrity… everything that we should strive to have." She turns to her father now, along with his troops. "But all you do… is see his strengths as your own shortcomings. So you're all scared—and you're all jealous. And throughout all your talk of '_imminent threats and danger,'_ the only people causing real destruction… are the ones holding guns. And Superman's not one of them. So no, I am _not_ gonna step aside so you can capture someone just because they're not human. Because if 'human' is how you're all acting right now, then maybe I'm better off not being one."

He wants to kiss her. Oh God, he wants to _kiss her_. Every word that she says is perfect, is convincing, is kind and recognizing of all his struggles. How does someone like her exist? How is it even possible that she understands him so well, or wants to help people as much as he does? God… he might… he might love her. Somehow. But yes, he _loves_ her. He's in _love_ with her.

Love, in his experience, is usually gradual. But this is like something has snapped within him. Like everything has changed in that moment. Because right then, right there, Lois was _everything at once_ \- beauty and rage and compassion and truth and heart and soul and mind… and Clark was nothing but a dumb kid in a red cape.

Everyone agrees with her. The soldiers stand down and retreat. But what else could they do after Lois's protests? Nothing. The effect she has on people… it's almost unreal…

**END OF CLARK POV VIGNETTES**

* * *

**RANDOM SCENE THAT I WROTE BECAUSE REASONS:**

Lois has been working on an article for hours, and though Clark normally lets her do her job in peace, he also _knows _that this deadline isn't due for a while. Plus, right now is one of those rare moments in which the city is more-or-less tranquil, and he's not inclined to let it go to waste. After all - she's the one who always complains about how they never have 'a moment to themselves'

So he approaches her spot at her desk, where she sits before her laptop, typing away. Her concentration is fierce - like it always is, when she is writing. And of course, he admires the determination by which she publishes her stories… but right now… well, she'll thank him for this later. He is reasonably certain that this will be far more entertaining than even writing.

Thus, Clark stands behind her chair and wraps his arms around her stomach.

"What are you doing?" Lois asks him in her 'I'm-doing-something-stop-distracting-me' voice.

"Nothing," he replies innocently, grinning as he brushes her hair out of his way.

Clark doesn't know what Lois expected, but she is certainly surprised when he proceeds to press his lips against her neck. He can feel it in the way she stiffens and gasps softly in reaction to his touch.

"That… definitely does not feel like nothing, Smallvile," she breathes. It looks like she is trying to continue typing, but if she is, she is failing miserably. In fact, she can do nothing but freeze entirely as his mouth continues to kiss and move along her skin, traveling to her ear and back down to her collarbone repeatedly.

"Clark...I should... I should really finish this article," she stammers. The reflection of the computer screen shows him that her eyes keep changing from half-lidded to wide and defiant. But he's making progress.

"Alright," he tells her, the words whispered in between the kisses, "feel free to keep working. If you can, that is."

"Are you kidding me? I can't work like this."

"Mmm...Good."

"_Good_?"

"Yes, good," he murmurs against the skin of her neck. "I'm eliminating the journalistic competition, kiss by kiss. Or so haven't you noticed?"

"You're despicable."

"And you're overworking yourself."

"That's hilarious, Mr. Stays-out-all-night-on-patrol, but I've really got some work to do. Sell it somewhere else."

At that, Clark shrugs and pulls away, his eyebrows raised in a bit of a challenge. "If you insist, _Miss Lane_. I'll cut it out. No more distracting physical contact. Happy?"

"Yup."

He relinquishes his hold on her and stands, proceeding to walk away from her toward the bedroom. Upon entering, he closes the door, and listens intently to what is occurring in the next room. Even now that he's gone, the sound of typing is nonexistent. His x-ray vision reveals her fingers hovering over the keyboard, a conflicted expression on her face. Her heartbeat is rapid - nervousness or anger or passion that refuses to be suppressed.

A few moments later, Clark hears the door of the bedroom swing open. He's already in the bed, in minimal clothing, because he _knows_ her and he figured this would happen eventually, if he already got her worked up.

"Yeah…" she begins slightly breathlessly as she stands at the foot of the bed. "The 'no distracting physical contact' rule? I lied. That does not make me happy. In fact… it makes me far from it. So...err… I'd really like if you started doing that thing again."

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "What thing? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The thing you were doing in there."

"What was I doing?"

"Clark…"

"Maybe if you could demonstrate," he suggests playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Lois climbs onto the bed and leans toward him. As she pulls him toward her, he feels her lips brush against his own neck. She whispers: "This thing. The sexy, neck-kissing thing."

"Oh ri-i-ight," he exclaims in mock recollection. "You mean this?"

Clark wraps both arms behind her and rolls over, placing her underneath him as he fulfills her request enthusiastically.

Interestingly, a little bit later, his prediction is proven correct. She does quite literally thank him for pulling her out of her work for this - because this… this was totally worth it.

**~END OF BOOK ONE BONUS CONTENT~**


	34. Book II Prologue - Breach

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING **

**A/N: Alrighty! This story is the sequel to my previous novel, Superman: Hope. I'd like to say that you could read this one without reading that, but unfortunately, I can't. This story is pretty dependent on the last one, which can be found by in this document.**

**Unlike the previous book, which mainly focuses on Lois's world and how Superman altered it, this novel will give more focus on Clark's world - on his Kryptonian heritage and past, etc. We'll also expand the universe a bit by bringing in more fantastical aspects of Superman's mythos. We'll be getting aliens and robots and other superheroes now, so brace yourself!**

**I do have to give some warning that my stories will not be happy at all times, and sometimes, they may be downright depressing. I** **do**** it for the sake of drama, but I more-or-less promise that almost all problems will be resolved in the end. I measure my characters' worth by the obstacles they overcome - it's something to consider in your expectations for what might happen.**

**I oftentimes involve mysteries in my novels. If you find yourself predicting the answer to some big mystery, please don't post it as a review because it can be seen as a spoiler.**

**Lastly, I'm keeping this novel mostly clean save for some suggestive content. language, and violence. Sorry if you're looking for *more*, but my novels just don't do that.**

**Anyway, enjoy! There is a third book in the works, but this one is still in progress too.**

* * *

_BOOK II PROLOGUE _

There are some things that, as a Lexcorp employee, you just know - even if you don't discuss them. You know that you never voice support for Superman on company property. A misdeed that severe could result in immediate firing. Of course, there's no written rule against such talk, but you'll get fired all the same for some vague, inconsequential reason.

But no matter what they say, the real rationale behind those firings is quite obvious. If you work for Lexcorp, you can't like Superman - not publicly anyway.

After all, everyone knows that Lex Luthor hates Superman. In the media, he takes every opportunity to condemn him, accusing him of attracting aliens to Earth and other atrocities. Very few people believe him, of course, no matter how much the people of Metropolis acknowledge that Lex is probably one of the smartest men in the world.

The fact of the matter is that, as much as the public respects Lex for building and owning most of the city, Metropolis just loves the Man of Steel more for saving it. And that, above all else, would probably cause Lex to pull his hair out… if he had hair, that is.

But there is something that Lex hates more than Superman… and that 'something' is being informed of problems. And not just any problems - catastrophic problems. Problems that could ruin Lex more than the Man of Steel ever could.

And while Superman supporters might get bounced from employeeship, Lexcorp workers know, though they don't mention, that Lex is rumored to frequently kill the messenger. The literality of that tendency… is up for debate. Some people claim that certain workers just disappear, out of fear of Lex's threats, or are literally thrown out of the city. Others say that Lex actually kills them… arranges accidents. It's odd, the Lexcorp employees have realized. There are quite a few mysterious accidents per year for people who delivered bad news to the company's CEO.

Graham Templeton, head of Lexcorp's data management department, knows all of these things, though he, like the others, never speaks of them. He does not even speak of them as he is waved toward Lex Luthor's office by a severe-looking young woman with dyed black hair, and panic floods his veins as he nears the door. Right now, he is carrying the worst of news to his boss - the kind that will get him fired, if he's lucky. Maybe killed, if he's unlucky. But as part of his job, unfortunately, it is his legal obligation deliver that sort of news. It says so in his employee contract.

The other reason why Metropolis prefers Superman? Lex, though he has never been convicted of doing anything illegal, has an aura of something… wicked about him. Graham's wife always says that it's something about his eyes… that there is a devilish glint in them. It's why she initially begged him to pass up the job at Lexcorp, no matter how much he would be paid for managing confidential Lexcorp data. People, in their hearts, could generally see through the facade. And while Superman appeared to be something humane and humble under his exterior, Lex seemed to radiate nothing but arrogance and greed, no matter how much Luthor buried those things with flashy charity galas and city improvement projects. Whereas Superman seemed to help, Luthor appeared to control. And in this case, appearances ring true.

Shaking from fear, Graham Templeton knocks on the door, regretting the day he ever took this position, and by extension, the responsibility of the huge error that his department just made.

"Come in," a smooth but impatient voice says, muffled by the heavy oak of the doors. With a click, those same doors swing open soundlessly - moved by automatic hinges.

Graham glances inside, stunned by how elegant Lex Luthor's office is. There is a huge panoramic window that overlooks the whole city, several hundred yards from the door. And then there are the plush furniture pieces, the high-tech devices strewn around the room, and the exotic plants potted in ornate vases. It's the middle-class man's ideal of luxurious conditions.

"What? Do you plan to stand in the doorway all night? Why are you here?" Lex demands from a desk right in front of the window. The lights in the office have been turned down low, leaving Lex's silhouette barely illuminated by the lights of the city. It gives him an eerie quality.

Like some sort of ghoul, Graham thinks nervously, but he immediately pushes the thought out of his mind as he pushes forward. He comes to stand in front of Luthor's desk.

Gulping, he manages to tell him, "Sir, we have a bit of a situation."

Lex's jaw immediately clenches. "What type of situation?"

"Well, as head of the department of data management, it's my job to oversee the handling of confidential company information… even sensitive information."

"I'm aware, Templeton. Spit it out."

A huge exhale. "Mr. Luthor," Graham begins, his voice marked by a hint of desperation, "approximately thirty minutes ago, our systems detected some sort of bug - a hacking program in our server. We managed to erase it completely… but not before it lifted some of your personal files off of your private server."

Lex's eyes widen, and he sits bolt upright in his chair, grabbing the arms of his chair as if they are necks he desires to strangle. "What?"

Graham, fearing for his life, immediately backs a few paces before answering. "There were files… taken. Downloaded. I never read them myself, but I was able to determine their designations."

"Which...files?" Lex grits out, something strongly animalistic in his expression.

"Something called Project Greenheart. And a fragment of another set of files… just a small fragment. From a set of encrypted folders called the S-examinations."

Lex seems like he might be on the verge of hyperventilation. "Are you telling me… that someone could be in complete possession of some of those files?"

"Only for Project Greenheart. The rest-"

Lex cuts him off savagely. "Who planted the bug? Did you track where it was sending the files?"

"Yes sir, but… the encryption was near perfect. Impossible to crack. We could only get a general location - somewhere in New Jersey. Gotham, maybe."

A huge city. It'd be impossible to figure out the real culprit. Lex, of course, realizes that too, panicking in response to the fact that some of his most private files are in the hands of some… unknown enemies

"WHY DIDN'T YOU DETECT IT SOONER?" Lex yells, his anger bursting out of him as he points an accusing finger at Graham.

"I-I'm sorry sir. It was so well hidden… we didn't think…"

Lex's expression is furious, and after practically lunging over his desk, he aggressively grabs the collar of Graham's shirt. The force he uses practically lifts Graham off the ground.

"Didn't think?" Lex hisses, his breath hot on Graham's face. "This could destroy me. No, you won't be thinking… not ever again."

Graham closes his eyes, ready for some sort of killing blow to come. But after a few moments... no such thing arrives. All he feels is Luthor suddenly and briskly releasing his collar.

Upon opening his eyes, Graham sees Lex straightening his suit, seeming utterly calm. In fact, he seems so calm that he couldn't possibly be the same person who indulged in the… emotional episode that Graham just experienced.

"You may leave now, Mr. Templeton," Lex tells him emotionlessly, turning his back to Graham and heading back to his desk. From there, the CEO sinks into his chair, seemingly drained. "Clear out your things immediately. There's no place for you here anymore."

Still shaking slightly, Graham nods and scrambles out of the room, feeling remarkably lucky.

Once he is gone, Lex raises his finger and presses a button on his desk console, causing the dark-haired woman to enter hastily.

"Mercy…" he begins to order her, "I'm afraid Graham Templeton is going to have an unfortunate accident on his way home tonight. I'll send his wife my sympathies."

_TBC..._


	35. Chapter One - Verdict

_CHAPTER ONE - VERDICT_

It's just so… so _typical_, Lois realizes as she peruses the news on her phone. Here she is, the best and most well-recognized reporter in the whole damn world, and when aliens invaded - invaded her own _hometown_, no less - she was halfway around the world and literally stuck there, unable to report.

Not to mention that this story had astounding personal significance to her, not just as a Metropolis native, but as the girlfriend of one Clark Kent (aka Superman) - her city's resident superpowered (and _friendly_ alien) protector. So she was forced to sit idly, completely sidelined, as Clark fought off impending doom and faced near certain death.

The media was frenzied and chaotic throughout it all too - to the point where Lois became almost ashamed to be part of a journalistic community that could hardly keep its facts straight. Every breaking news update was almost immediately retracted or sensationalized, and woefully contradictory information was released nearly each second.

For example, in one instance, there were at least forty unconfirmed reports of Superman's death, which nearly caused Lois to have forty separate coronaries. Meanwhile, there were forty _more _reports of Superman being alive and fighting on, taking on the invading leader - some hulking, sallow-skinned creature named Mongul - singlehandedly in some sort of colossal battle.

Of course, this is old news by now. It's been a month since the invasion of Metropolis - a month since Superman near-literally kicked the would-be-conqueror Mongul and his forces' butts off of planet Earth, expelling them to space. It must have came as quite the surprise to Mongul - he thought he was coming to subjugate a defenseless planet, but he accidentally found Superman instead.

Lois is just still incredulous and _bitter_ about that fact that it happened, even as she reads articles about the repair efforts in the city. Her home was partially destroyed - and she wasn't even _there_. No, she got herself _stranded_ in Qurac for two months, waiting for a flight home after the disaster, since almost all international travel routes to America were shut down for security reasons.

That's why she's still in Qurac, standing outside of a courthouse located in the nation's capital, checking the news on her phone out of boredom.

Of course, the pictures accompanying the articles oftentimes feature Superman - in all his gorgeous, blue-eyed glory. Apparently, he has been working round-the-clock to repair the city, which probably explains why the pictures show constant seriousness and concentration in his expression.

Or… that expression could be one of exhaustion, since lifting a million tons of building materials has probably put quite the strain on him.

Even so, seeing his face strikes her with newfound homesickness - _God_, she hasn't seen Clark in person in… forever. Not since before Mongul came. And despite how nice it would be, it's not like she can expect him to fly down to visit her. Not when the city needs him so much. If there aren't repairs to be made, there are criminals taking advantage of the chaos to stop. And if there aren't criminals to stop, there are supplies to deliver to families who lost everything in the destruction.

So _no_, she's not selfish enough to ask Clark to come visit her. They make phone calls and send e-mails. It's a system. An _inadequate_ system, but a system all the same.

Regardless, there are _some _benefits to her being stranded here. She is able to attend the trial of the Bialyan terrorists who once made sport of shooting up a town. A town that Lois was somewhat coincidentally visiting at the time, and that near-coincidence caused her to receive a near-fatal bullet through the shoulder.

She got lucky and survived. But the rest of the village, her photographer Tom, and many other communities, did not.

It's been awhile since she has allowed herself to consider Tom. For a long time, she was rebuilding herself, trying to fight Lex, as if that would alleviate responsibility from her own conscience. Because really - he would not have been there, or died, if it was not for her.

Somehow, pushing him out of her mind was disturbingly easy to do - Tom had almost no family, no significant others. She wasn't even invited to his funeral. She wonders if those who knew him well blamed her, and purposely made it so she would never have a hand in his life (or death) again. Regardless, she is here - she has helped captured his killers to help gain Tom, and the rest of those people, some justice.

Right now, she is waiting for the jury's decision on the murderers' fates - a decision that has been long overdue. In fact, a conclusion should have been made by an hour ago - a deadline that was already _two hours_ after the presentation of the men's cases.

She wonders what could be taking so long. Lois spent so much time sitting fruitlessly inside the courtroom that her joints started to stiffen, so she took a walk outside to relieve her restlessness.

Apparently, she is not the only one who shares this intention - not anymore, anyway. The door beside her opens, revealing a familiar, middle-aged man in a Quraci military uniform with close-cropped hair. He comes to stand beside her, pulling out and lighting a cigarette before placing it in between his lips.

Aware that Lois is watching him, he glances at her and holds up the box of cigarettes. "Care for one, Miss Lane?" he offers in the Quraci language, the cigarette still in between his teeth.

"No thanks, Colonel," she replies nearly fluently (her language skills have gotten quite good during her time stranded here). She shakes her head and sticks her phone in her pocket. "I kicked that addiction a while ago. In fact, I would recommend for you to do the same."

The Colonel chuckles. "In my line of work, with Bialya threatening war, I would be lucky to die from something like lung cancer."

"Whatever. It's your decision, not mine - but just keep your health in mind. Anyway, has there been any news from inside?"

"It is…" the Colonel exhales, "... a difficult decision. The public wants justice - the death penalty for the attackers of those villages, which would require a unanimous vote from the jury. But Bialya promises an attack if we _do_ choose the death penalty. Thus, this issue has now become a matter of national pride and respect, not just of morality, and the jurors are having trouble dealing with the potential ramifications of their decisions."

Lois looks out from her spot on the steps of the courthouse, staring at the sprawling expanse of the Quraci capital city, Dhabar. "What would you vote for, if you were one of them?"

"Is this something for your articles, Miss Lane?"

"No. Just curiosity."

He scratches his chin. "After all the horror stories I have heard, after all the crimes I know they're responsible for… I would choose the death penalty in a heartbeat - Bialya be damned. They're going to attack us either way. Plus, after all the trouble we went through, trying to capture these killers after their months on the run - I think we deserve some justice."

Lois makes a humming sound - one that is neither approving or disapproving of his choice. She just continues staring at the city… a city not unlike her own in its beauty or the dangers it faces. Metropolis faces alien conquerors, Dhabar faces a greedy queen from a nearby country.

"Of course… I suppose I should be asking you what you'd prefer. You were nearly one of their victims after all, and lost one of your acquaintances to them. And then you traveled with our convoy to report on their capture. So if anyone should have a say… it'd probably be you," the Colonel tells her.

"I wouldn't have them killed," Lois says quietly but confidently.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not gonna stain my soul for the likes of them. Besides… a prison sentence lasts a lot longer than the brief pain of dying," she remarks. "Not to mention that, with aliens and all sorts of nasty things attacking, it'd probably be a good idea for humans to stop killing each other in general."

The Colonel shakes his head, as if he cannot quite fathom what he is hearing - and maybe, as a man who has come to expect war, he really can't understand her hopes for absolute peace. Thus, it is a few silent moments later that he drops his cigarette on the ground and proceeds to stomp it out.

"We should go back inside. They should have an answer any minute now."

"That's what they said hours ago," Lois complains.

"Still - you should not miss a chance to report, correct?"

* * *

It's still quite a while before a man enters the courtroom with a folded paper in hand, nearly stumbling to the judge's podium. The people observing the trial crane their necks to follow his progress, and to perhaps get a glance at what's written on the paper.

The judge immediately reads what the man gives him, his expression inscrutable. In her seat nearby, Lois keeps her pen poised on her notepad, prepared for the verdict. She recognizes that silence hangs like a curtain over the room - a curtain that begins to pull open as the judge clears his throat and starts to speak.

"The jury has come to a decision," he says loudly. He then gestures to the killers, who stand in handcuffs at the front of the room, their faces downcast. "Given the charges of mass murder… these men will receive a penalty determined by High Court of Qurac and its civilian council. Their final verdict is... "

Everyone holds their breath.

"...lifetime imprisonment, beginning immediately. This court is dismissed."

As the hall erupts into angry shouts, Lois sits in her chair, scrawling the resulting verdict down for her upcoming article. Many Quraci people are obviously upset - they were expecting the men to pay for their crimes with their lives. But now… now they can't help feeling betrayed by the jury. But could anyone blame the council for their choice? They were almost literally asked if killing should be answered with more killing… and they chose no.

For that reason, Lois is glad that she wasn't a member of that jury. She's even more glad that the war with Bialya will be postponed - even for a little while. Like she said before, in the face of all these external threats, the humans should probably avoid killing each other at every opportunity.

As soon as she finishes writing on her notepad, Lois glances sideways toward another seat in the audience, one that is a little ways off. On it sits a young girl - a girl that Lois recognizes. The girl that Lois once tried to save, and essentially got shot protecting.

The girl had made it, after all. It was only a few hours ago, when Lois was walking into the courtroom, that she learned that fact for the first time. And it was the first time she and the girl interacted since that day in the village, all those months ago.

Well… _somewhat_ interacted. They merely exchanged glances upon their reunion, but that's okay with Lois. The memories that they both have of that day are… painful. There's nothing for them to really discuss - and Lois certainly doesn't desire thanks from her. Truly, she did not contribute all that much to saving the girl's life. All she did was buy her a few seconds of time. But once that bullet tore through Lois's shoulder… well, her help was abruptly brought to an end.

Of course, the girl is not the only person she met again. After the men's captures, the guy who fired that bullet recognized her on sight. At the time, she was travelling with the convoy, trying to make sense of what happened that day by interviewing the monsters that took so many lives - there had to be some profound reason, didn't there? Life could not possibly be that cruel for no reason at all. But… there really wasn't a reason. And his reaction to her interview and reappearance was... unkind to say the least, not that she expected anything else. First, he spewed a string of offensive slurs at her, and then proceeded to spit on her, claiming that she had defamed Bialya.

As a result, Lois punched him so hard that she probably permanently deformed his nose. The soldiers she was traveling with didn't object in the least.

But _this is it_, Lois supposes as she watches the murderers being led out of the room by armed guards. This is the closure she waited for.

She wouldn't exactly call it sweet… but it's certainly more than she could hoped for in the past.

The past… she really has spent a lot of time thinking about the past these last few weeks. She has relived that unhappy day in that village a thousand times, the images flashing before her eyes every time she was forced to look at those murderous men.

But now they're gone. And justice was served. There's nothing more that she could ask for - not reasonably, anyway.

So now, she supposes, the only thing she _can_ ask for is two tickets to go home. Metropolis seems to be calling her back into its arms… and so is its Man of Steel.

But she still wants a reason. But there is none. Terrible things happen far too often, in her opinion, and it is only recently that she has started to believe in the _good kind_ of luck.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR DC COMICS-RELATED**

**a/n: I know these chapters are shorter than usual. They get longer. Also, I'm posting early because I'm gonna be busy all day tomorrow. **

**I'm pretty behind with writing due to my schedule, so there may be a hiatus between book 2 and book 3. We'll see. **

**I'm also super busy right now so I wasn't able to edit this thoroughly so please excuse typos. **

**Hope you enjoyed! Review please! **


	36. Chapter Two - Return

_CHAPTER TWO - RETURN_

Lois never thought she would miss flying on an _airplane_. If anything, airplanes are simply the targets of bad, deprecating jokes, or the means of getting from one place to another. It's quite clear that very few people find flying _fun _\- and Lois normally would not count themselves among them… not unless she is floating in Clark's arms.

But as someone who has been stranded overseas for a very long time, Lois finds any vehicle that intends to bring her home... _exciting_… even despite the cramped seats and the bad peanuts and the terrifying turbulence that plagued the whole trip.

So when they land, Lois feels vaguely nauseous - _joyously_ relieved… but nauseous.

Oh yes… she is definitely eager to step foot in Metropolis, so she practically _runs _off of the plane like a giddy toddler. The first thing she does, upon entering Metropolis International Airport, is take a deep breath of city air and a long look at the city in a window. Obviously, it's not the cleanest air in the world, so she probably shouldn't be so keen on inhaling it, but to her it smells like _home_ and _familiarity_… and she can't help herself.

Once she's finished staring at the Metropolis skyline and breathing polluted airport oxygen, Lois glances around the gate, searching for a familiar face - and not just _any_ familiar face. Clark promised to meet her here right after she got off the plane. But… now that she's looking… she can't find him anywhere in the sea of people.

Lois checks the time on her phone. Her flight is slightly late by about twenty minutes, probably because of that oh-so-enjoyable turbulence. So… it's not like he _shouldn't _be here yet_. _

She wonders… Did he _forget_ about her?

Immediately, Lois pushes that uneasiness out of her head. More likely, Clark has been held up by something Superman-related, per usual. He probably would be here if he could, but saving the world always ranks _slightly_ higher than picking up his significant other from the airport.

Even with that suspicion in mind, she waits for a half-hour, just in case he shows up late. But after she finishes several magazines and papers from a nearby newsstand, he still does not arrive, much to Lois's disappointment. At that point, she is simply forced to give up and push onwards.

Sighing audibly, she practically trudges to the baggage claim to grab her stuff. Of course, _somehow_ her suitcase has still not arrived there, despite how long it's been since the plane landed. So now she has to wait for another good twenty minutes for her bag to be spewed out by the conveyer belt. And then, naturally, one of her suitcases happens to be identical another traveler's, and their luggage tags have both been smudged and ruined by some sort of spilt water.

So after an _exhausting_ argument with a cranky grandma about who owns which suitcase, Lois is forced to embarrass herself by opening both bags to make a final determination. Her face goes beat read as all of her underwear and bras spill out of her bursting luggage, the garments having been haphazardly shoved and crumpled into place before the suitcase was forced closed. The grandma, on the other hand, had a bag filled with ceramic cat sculptures.

Lois doesn't know which set of contents were more mortifying to see.

Once that issue is resolved, and each suitcase has been returned to its rightful owner, a very irritated Lois exits the airport, wheeling her two bags - one checked and one hefty carry-on - toward the curb where the taxis are parked

But as she approaches a cab, briskly walking along the sidewalk, she suddenly feels one of her bags _torn_ out of her grasp.

Lois spins around frantically, trying to determine who is stealing from her, and prepared to _punch_ whoever she catches. But upon getting a good look, she realizes that the hand that once held the second suitcase's handle is now _entirely_ empty, with the luggage (and its snatcher) nowhere in sight.

Struck by a mixture of incredulity and exasperation, Lois glances up and down the walkway, trying to locate a likely suspect of the theft - but nobody fits the bill. Everyone nearby is casually milling about, unwilling to give her any notice and certainly not fleeing from view with the quarry of a purple suitcase. Even the cab drivers aren't paying attention to her distress.

Confusion twists her features as her head swivels from side to side, her mind uncomprehending of what has just occurred. How could someone steal her suitcase - which is not a small bag, by any account - so smoothly and discreetly? Her grip felt pretty firm at the time, and there's no way someone could _run off_ with it so quickly.

As she contemplates this, she feels it happen _again_ \- with the other bag this time, which has now disappeared in an equally mysterious vanishing act.

Gasping in surprise, Lois whirls around, demanding, "What the _hell_?"

Both bags are gone now - nowhere in sight, stolen by some sort of invisible crook.

It makes no sense, Lois thinks. Her tote bag, which is still slung over her shoulder, is where her _real_ valuables are located. The suitcases are filled with clothes and bathroom supplies - nothing more. So why steal them and ignore her wallet entirely?

Just as she prepares to head back inside, planning to contact airport security, something speeds toward her and literally _sweeps_ her off her feet_. _

The world blurs around her, and something bright red and blue has essentially enveloped her as she moves unstoppably forward, air resistance pushing against her skin.

She doesn't even have the chance to cry out - not before the world slows back down to a comprehensible speed, the blur of colors surrounding her finally focusing into images.

After blinking several times, Lois registers that she is now far away from the airport - far above the ground, even. Currently, she is floating several hundred feet over Metropolis's highest skyscraper, the city's windows glimmering in the afternoon light, and the bay visibly reflecting the sun's rays.

It's a breathtaking view, of course - the kind that most people can only dream about.

But right now, Lois is more concerned with the view in front of her, not around her - a view of vibrant, deep blue irises. A view of handsome features and spit-curled hair and a perfect smile.

_Clark. _

Without speaking, he tightens his arms around the back of her waist, pulling her even closer as he proceeds to kiss her urgently. His eyes are shut tight with fierce concentration, as if he is committing the moment to memory.

The intensity of the kiss is… _staggering. _Or at least it would be, if she were on the ground. Instead, as she is held upright in his arms, his cape flapping around them, she can only revel in it - in the two-months' worth of passion and longing that she has missed… in his warmth… in the feeling of his lips…

Of course, Lois returns his fervor just as eagerly, her arms entwining around his neck and a breathless sigh escaping her mouth. She presses herself toward him to close the already minute space between their bodies, unable to stand even the shortest distance of separation.

Over the last few weeks, she certainly didn't forget what this sort of thing feels like - the electricity and the magnetism are nearly unforgettable. But a memory is utterly incomparable to the live sensation of it all.

Unfortunately, the air is too thin at her altitude, so it quickly becomes difficult for her to breathe. But every time she frees her lips, gasping for air, she finds herself diving back in for another kiss, which he readily provides.

When they finally pull away from each other, breathing heavily, Lois has lost all track of time. They could have been kissing for a century, for all she knows or cares.

Though their mouths no longer touch, their faces still linger close to one another, foreheads pressed together. At this proximity, Lois can see the way his eyelashes frame his vivid eyes, or the way his smile upturns the corners of his mouth.

"Hey, you," he greets finally, staring at her from under those lashes. "Long time, no see."

She has a bit of trouble speaking around her wide grin. "Longer than it should have been. You're late - if you haven't noticed."

"Believe me, I noticed. I tried to get here on time, but my repairs to the subway system didn't hold, and I had to prevent a crash-"

Lois cuts him off with another brief kiss. Once she pulls away, she tells him, "I figured as much. So… did you miss me, Smallville?"

"What do _you_ think?" he asks rhetorically, his eyes sparkling.

"I don't know… you and Mongul seemed to be getting _pretty_ cozy while I was gone. I worried I was being replaced."

He snorts, and when he speaks, his voice is rife with sarcasm. "Oh yes. I won't deny it. He's a _much_ better kisser than you are, by the way."

She shrugs playfully. "Maybe… but I have better hair."

"True. But-" Clark continues, "his knuckle sandwich was still _far_ less deadly than anything you've ever tried to cook."

"Very funny, farmboy. I suppose that it's a good thing that you do all the cooking, then," she remarks, pointing at his chest. "Now, are you gonna take me home or what? I'm _exhausted_."

Clark smirks. "Sure. You'll be happy to know that I already picked up your bags."

Vividly remembering the incident at the airport, Lois shakes her head and mumbles,"I hate when you do that sort of thing. I thought you were a _thief_."

Laughing, Clark scoops her into a more manageable position, one arm supporting her back and the other running under her knees. As they begin to fly forward, the Metropolis skyline seems to move beneath them.

_Christ_, Lois has missed this.

"Me?" he responds with mock indignance as they glide between the clouds. "A thief? You're the _real_ thief, Lois Lane because you-"

She makes an exaggerated gagging sound. "You better not say that I've '_stolen your heart_,' Clark. Because if you do, I _will_ vomit all over your nice uniform."

* * *

"You're sure that you don't need to go out?" Lois asks, her eyebrow raised.

"Yup."

"_Absolutely_ sure?"

Clark angles his head downwards so that he can brush his lips against her cheek. "Positive."

With legs sprawled out and intertwined, both Lois and Clark sit reclined on the couch, watching a glut of mindless television.

It's a blissful sort of peacefulness, Clark thinks. Maybe the first peacefulness he's had in weeks. The feeling of her here, leaning against his chest and between his arms, seems to physically swell his heart to twice its normal size and muddle his thoughts.

His life has been incredibly chaotic without her. Perry was bordering on neurotic while she was gone, frantically complaining about the decreased paper sales caused by her inability to report. Then he proceeded to irrationally blame _Clark_ for it all, claiming that he should have stopped Lois from going to Qurac in the first place. But Perry knows that Lois is stubborn - Clark doubts that either of them could have found a way to stop her... not even with chains or straightjackets or prison cells. Somehow, someway, Lois Lane would have made her way to Qurac no matter what.

In fact, that sort of uncompromising determination is why he fell in love with her - it's why he's _still_ head-over-heels in love with her.

Nonetheless, out of pure bitterness, Perry still decided to dump all of Lois's articles on him. And that extra workload was absolutely _fantastic_ to deal with, especially while he was fighting an alien tyrant who could match Clark's blows with near-equal strength, though with none of his respect for life.

Initially, Clark was glad that Lois was out of the city during the invasion. Without her there, he didn't have to worry about directly endangering her life. But as the terrifying battle raged on, he found his ears straining to hear her heartbeat, or the sound of her voice as she talked with some Quraci soldier. The consuming fear of loss - dying, losing her, and subsequently letting the world where she lives fall into Mongul's hands - was enough to push him to victory.

And afterwards, he wanted nothing more than to fly to her - to kiss her and to lie in her arms for hours. But when he called her on the phone, letting her know that he was okay, she was so _stern_ \- telling him to repair the city and help the injured. She was right, of course - he realized that. So he did as she suggested and _helped. _

But when he finally found a spare moment, he realized that their new apartment - which they had recently bought together - felt too cold and empty while she was away. He couldn't even bear to sleep alone in the bed… it just felt too wrong. So every night he'd drag himself inside and plop onto the couch, oddly exhausted, for some strange reason. Normally, he doesn't even _need_ rest, but almost every day while she was gone, he would come back so tired that he would fall into deep but nightmare-ridden slumbers - at least until some disaster or repair effort snapped him back into consciousness.

Whenever he went to work, Jimmy would easily notice his exhaustion. The young photographer joked that it was a result of heartsickness, and given what Clark had been feeling at the time, he could not exactly disagree.

But now that he is with her again, it's like the cacophony of the outside world has died down, reduced to a soft buzzing by the sound of her breathing and the beat of her heart. It feels like every tense muscle is loosening, and every strung-out thought is fading away. Even his exhaustion is lessening.

And he's so _determined_ to have this - this moment in which he belongs to her, before he goes back out as Superman, who belongs to the world.

He justifies it to himself by listening closely to the rest of the city. Right now, he can hear that an arson case in Bakerline has been brought under control, thanks to the firemen who just arrived on the scene. Two miles away, a woman's purse has just been snatched, but her companion is successfully chasing down the robber. And the police have just caught and handcuffed a man who tried to bomb a public venue. Thus, by the usual standards, Metropolis is rather quiet tonight.

But there are other problems, of course. Some of them are very far away - in Japan or Greece or Kenya - while others are very close by, like those in Gotham or Keystone. Throughout the world, there are constant car accidents and destabilizing buildings and people falling down stairs.

It took a long time for Clark to accept that he can't be everywhere, and that death is going to occur no matter what he does, or how many people he saves. He has also come to understand that his presence shouldn't be too strong. Humanity needs to be independent enough to solve its own problems, because if creatures like Mongul have their way (the alien tyrant did swear vengeance, after all) Superman may not always be around to make rescues. So he reserves himself for the big disasters - the ones that will take a lot of lives if he does not act. These are not easy decisions to make, but he is by no accounts a god, and he can't be expected to act like one. Even if every life lost hits him like a blow to the heart.

"You okay, Smallville?" Lois asks suddenly, craning her neck to look at him. "I mean, this show just had four high-quality jokes, and you didn't so much as react."

"Sorry," he replies. Blinking rapidly, he focuses his thoughts and allows the noises to fade from his mind. "I was just thinking about some things."

"More like listening to trouble. I mean, if you need to go help someone-"

He smiles - she knows him too well. "Actually," he says, "things are pretty tranquil right now. I mean, unless you want me to go…?"

Lois shifts so that she is lying on top of him, her face angled directly toward his. "Not when I'm _this_ comfortable."

_God_, he has missed her. He has traveled all over the world and can see places miles away, but Lois is still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on. Her deep brown eyes seem to brim with glittering intelligence - intelligence that is accented with just a _tiny_ glint of mischievousness. And her hair, which has been cut short since the last time he saw her, still falls around the sides of her face like a glossy curtain. He loves every part of her - her narrow nose, her blushing cheeks, her dark red lips, and every inch of her tan, smooth skin.

She seems to be examining him as well, searching his face for something. But then they are leaning into each other, their lips meeting lightly at first, but the contact soon grows in force and intensity. Clark feels her hand pull upwards at his shirt-

But suddenly, they are interrupted by the shrill ringing of a cell phone. With vexation clear on her features, Lois pulls her hand and lips away from him, groaning in irritation.

"We can never have a moment, can we?"

Clark chuckles bitterly. "Apparently not."

She seems to lean back toward him, her lips beginning to linger mere inches above his own. "I'm gonna let it go to voicemail," he hears her murmur toward his mouth

"You… you shouldn't," he stammers softly, the smell of her skin making him feel heady. "I think it's Perry - he practically lost his mind while you were gone."

"You know what? Perry can deal with it. I'm _extremely _busy right now..."

Clark sits up, gingerly lifting them both into an upright position. "You know he always blames me when you're uncooperative."

Lois raises an eyebrow again and crosses her arms. "Oh, _I'm_ being uncooperative right now?"

"Lois, please just go get the phone. I'll still be here when you get back."

Rolling her eyes, she hoists herself to her feet and trudges over to the counter, where her tote bag is located. Apparently, the cell phone has fallen to the bottom of it, so Clark watches as she tosses things out of the way to retrieve it. Some of the items are ridiculous - there's an old cheese stick and a spoon and at least two tasers that get discarded. But the last thing that she throws is oddly familiar and catches his eye, so he soon stands in order to get a better view of it.

"Hey, Perry," Lois greets as she answers the call, her phone finally in hand. "Yeah, my flight landed a while ago. I'm just trying to get over my jetlag. No, I don't have any stories yet - jeez, I just got back! Plus, I sent you my stuff on the court case a few hours ago."

Clark glances at Lois long enough to see her smirk. "Yes, I'll get a _personal_ interview with Superman as soon as possible. Christ, Perry...Calm down a bit, and take it down a decibel - I don't think your blood pressure can handle this sort of stress. Okay, I'm gonna go. I'll see you tomorrow."

She hangs up, plopping the phone back into the bag. Meanwhile, Clark picks up the object that she has thrown on the floor. It's made of glossy, brightly colored paper - a magazine.

"Lois," Clark begins, his voice strangely small, "For the love of God… why do you have this?"

Realizing what he is holding, Lois immediately throws back her head and laughs.

The magazine is one of the typical supermarket tabloids, but on its cover is none other than a picture of Clark as Superman. It's one of his most embarrassing ones, too - taken right after he fixed a leak in a fishing vessel, so at the time, he was all-too-dramatically flipping his damp hair out of his face as he burst out of the water.

Someone evidently caught the whole motion in a photograph, and the result is so corny that it makes him want to pull a bag over his head.

The headline is equally mortifying.

"_Superman, SEXIEST MAN ALIVE!_" it reads in huge yellow letters. "_Heroic, handsome, and super in all respects - what's not to love?_"

Her laughter dies down long enough for her to taunt, "_God_, if you could see the look on your face right now…" But then she covers her mouth with her hands as she breaks into hysterics once more.

He knows about being given the title, of course - the magazine was in the hands of almost every woman in Metropolis as soon as it was released, much to his ultimate embarrassment. However, because the issue came out while she was away, he had maintained the vain hope that Lois would never see it. He knew that she would never let him live it down. After all, it was bad enough that Lana called him about it, reading the article to him _out loud _between squealing peals of laughter.

"Where did you even buy this?" he mumbles peevishly, deliberately pointing the front of the magazine away from himself so he doesn't have to see that _terrible_ photo. "I thought a new issue had come out by now."

Clearing her throat, Lois teasingly responds, "Apparently the magazine has been selling additional copies - I heard it was their best-selling issue _ever_."

Clark's face goes beet red. "You're kidding. _Please_ tell me you're kidding."

Lois snorts. "Nope."

"Why did _you_ buy it though?"

She holds up a finger. "One: Because it's hilarious." A second finger goes up. "Two: Since you refused to do their shirtless photoshoot, they hired an artist to depict what'd you look like without your famous uniform. I was curious to see if the rendition was accurate."

That, he didn't know. So that's what everyone in the world was carrying around? Drawings of him half-naked?

The idea makes Clark shudder.

"In truth, I don't think they did you justice," Lois continues casually. "You have an eight pack, not a six pack-"

"I'm going to burn this," he declares, preparing to drop the magazine on the floor like it is something poisonous. "I'm going to burn this with my heat vision, and throw the ashes out the window."

As she stares at the vaguely distressed expression on his face, Lois becomes somewhat apologetic. She then approaches him and presses her hands comfortingly against his chest.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I'm just teasing you, Smallville. The real reason I bought it is on page 25, if you're interested," she tells him honestly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Clark flips open the magazine to the specified location, and sees a new, remarkably more intriguing headline.

_BATTLE OF THE BOY-BILLIONAIRES: WAYNETECH SUES LEXCORP OVER PATENT DISPUTE._

This, he _has _heard about - the Planet was one of the first papers to report on it. But tabloid's story goes far more 'in-depth' (in all the wrong ways) by offering a full examination of Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne's personal lives, and so-called 'proof' that the lawsuit is attributable to the men's long-standing rivalry for attention.

In all honesty, though, Clark has desperately tried to not be _too_ _pleased_ with Lex's misfortune. A patent lawsuit isn't enough to get Lex jailed. But it is enough to tarnish his reputation a bit, and can certainly cut the resources and activities of Lex's long-corrupt company.

He doesn't know much about Bruce Wayne, other than the fact that he's rich, a bit of a playboy, and one of Lois's ex-boyfriends (she told him that their relationship ended on, he quotes, 'nuclear-explosion bad terms,' and left it at that). But any nuisance to Lex (that takes the legal route) is a friend to Clark.

"It's more like 'battle of the exes' for me," Lois comments, glancing at the headline with a sardonic smile. "I even got a brief mention as a source of contention between them, since I dated them both. But all-in-all, the article was hilarious. I especially liked the part where they examined how Lex's baldness-induced self-esteem issues lead to 'bad behavior.'"

"Yikes," Clark says, putting the Magazine on a nearby counter. "Er… sorry for freaking out on you, then. It's just… stuff like this magazine… it's definitely _not_ the reaction I expected from the world when I became Superman. Fear, gratitude, wonder - maybe I foresaw those. But the celebrity status isn't what I signed up for."

Lois suddenly seems like she is tasting something sour. "Well, do you really think I'm _comfortable_ with the fact that millions of women are swooning over you? I mean, the magazine interviewed all these famous actresses and singers about how you're _their_ celebrity crush. It kinda makes me wonder why you're still here with me… and humor's the only way I can really work through thoughts like that."

Clark is taken aback at that.

Sure, there's always been an irrationally paranoid part of _him_. One that is always afraid of losing her - to Lex, the only person besides his family and Lois who knows his secret… or to Lombard, who constantly flirts with her at work… or even to the charming men she interviews for the Planet. Honestly - she's already dated Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and about fifty other extraordinary men. He never even considered that she is afraid of him leaving her - perhaps because he has never considered doing such a thing. The love he has for her is beyond expressible words - it's an indescribable feeling of warmth, euphoria, and _rightness_… He doesn't think he has felt this way about anyone before - not even Lana, despite how deeply he cared for her. Maybe he'll never feel this way with alone else again. Lois _has to_ realize that.

Clark wraps his arms around her, pulling her toward him for another kiss. This one lasts longer than previously, because he means to prove something to her - that he is here, and plans to stay. The contact they engage in feels like a closed circuit… one that feeds a powerful current of _emotion_ into his every nerve.

When he finally pulls away, he whispers into her ear, "Well, I love _you_, okay? Only you. And I wouldn't trade what I have with you - what I _feel _for you - for anything in the universe."

"Not even for a date with Jennifer Lawrence?" Lois asks, raising her eyebrow yet again. "Apparently she's a big fan of yours."

"_Definitely_ not even for a date with Jennifer Lawrence," he assures her. Then, he scoops her into his arms, causing her to squeal in surprise, and carries her toward the bed.

"Now... I believe we were interrupted before, _Miss Lane_," Clark recalls. "Allow me to continue where we left off."

* * *

As he begins to fall asleep that night, content with Lois snoozing softly beside him, Clark begins to feel like his stress has eased. The city is mostly quiet, the deadlines are met, the invaders are far away, and the municipal repairs are nearly complete. Things, for the first time in many weeks, are looking decidedly peachy.

There are, of course, issues that he continues to worry about - mostly because he has spent weeks unsuccessfully pondering solutions to them. Lex Luthor, for instance, has become particularly problematic. Right now, he can't even find Luthor with his super-senses, which chills him to the bone - he must be in some sort of Superman-proofed room, plotting privately to upheave Clark Kent/Superman's life.

It was the morning after Lois won her Pulitzer that she revealed Lex had determined Superman's civilian identity. The information was certainly unwelcome - the idea that Lex can locate Clark's family, or his home address, or where he works… makes his skin crawl.

Not to mention that they have added rivalry now, given Lex's jealousy toward Clark's relationship with Lois.

For months, Clark has been fearing the inevitable day when Lex proceeds to broadcast Superman's identity as public knowledge. He just _knows_ that it's coming soon, and when it does, moments like these will cease to exist - moments when he can sleep soundly in an apartment with Lois, or clock-in at the Daily Planet, or visit his parents in Smallville. Everything that Clark Kent is and ever will be will just… disappear.

Meanwhile, he _also_ fears what has been keeping Lex silent - the billionaire's sense of obligation to Lois. Clark trusts Lois, of course, and he knows that she will never go back to Lex (though that paranoid part of him still worries). But he doesn't consider himself paranoid for worrying about Lex's desperation to win back Lois's heart. When dealing with someone as unstable and self-serving as Lex, Clark can only wonder what he plans to do to '_eliminate the competition_." What if Lois gets caught in the crosshairs?

And then...Lois's attitude toward Lex is a bit problematic as well. After Professor Emil Hamilton tried to kidnap Superman last year, Lex provided invaluable help during Lois's rescue attempt. For that reason, Lois feels rather… indebted to Lex. Like she owes him for saving Clark's life. But Clark refuses to believe that - he _knows_ that Lex is manipulating her to make her feel that way. But despite the conversations they have had on the matter, or her denial of the sentiment, he can see that she still avoids talking about Lex in her articles… perhaps to make it up to him.

Clark, meanwhile, refuses to feel indebted in the least. If anything, he and Lex are even after Lex encouraged General Lane to hunt Superman.

General Lane… the xenophobe. The father of the woman he loves.

Clark wonders what will happen if (or more likely, when) he decides to ask Lois to marry him.

And who knows if Lois even _plans_ on ever getting married.

Great. Now, instead of just _relaxing_, Clark is freaking himself out again by worrying about Luthor and having his identity exposed and losing Lois and getting married and potential in-law problems, of all things.

Just as he is about to head to the bathroom to splash some much-needed cold water on his face, Lois moans and shifts in her sleep. Her arm gets thrown over his chest, and she rolls onto her stomach, thus coming to rest on top of him with her face pressing against his skin. As he places a supportive arm behind her back, Clark smiles affectionately against the top of her head.

With her warmth pressed against him, and the peacefully rhythmic sound of her breathing, Clark's mind clears enough for him to drift off… he's so tired all of a sudden… and there's this strange ringing in his ear… maybe from exhaustion…?

_Kal-El_, someone whispers urgently. _Kal-El, aonah zhoduv Jor-El, zhgam ugem. _

The voice is odd… unintelligible. It seems to tickle his ear… his brain … but something is _wrong_ about it. The sound is more like a vibration than an actual _voice_, which leads him to believe that it is not human. It frightens him.

The voice continues to whisper his birth name incessantly, like a chant or a prayer. Every time the words repeat, it feels like someone is sticking fingers in his brain, and Clark wants to escape it - to make it be _silent_ \- but he is trapped, paralyzed, in inscrutable darkness. There is no one in sight, no method of escape - he is alone with nothing but a chorus of insistent, incoherent, disembodied voices.

_That's not my name_! he declares desperately to the pitch black nothingness. _Not anymore! Krypton is gone! Leave me alone! _

Silence succeeds the words. Clark sighs heavily, relieved, and drops to his knees. Maybe they have stopped for good, he wonders.

Ultimately, he is wrong.

"_Krypton nim zhehiodia chao jor vot rrup, Kal-El_!" it urges again suddenly, with far more volume and desperation than before. The sound becomes so intense that Clark is forced to cover his ears. _God_, it feels like someone is drilling into his brain with _screws_.

"_Zhgam! Zhgam, Kal-El, zhgam! Voikir khuhp!" _

And then the room is flooded with white light - enough to nearly _burn _Clark's eyes.

For a while, there's just pure whiteness, and he wonders if he has gone blind. But soon a sort of room is coming into focus. Clark glances around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Why is he here? How did he get here?

Everything - from the smooth countertops lined with bottles of liquid substances to the advanced, blinking machinery - is sleek and metallic… and the lighting… it's so harsh… like… like-

Like a _laboratory_.

Then he realizes what is happening. He is trapped, held behind panes of glass that he cannot break because he cannot move. And there are people in lab coats and surgical masks around him, examining him, scanning him. They scrutinize him like he is nothing but an object - a cosmic oddity that has fallen into their laps. Tools proceed to poke and prod him, and he wants to scream, but his mouth refuses to move…

And then someone new walks into the room - someone with cold green eyes and a bald head.

Lex Luthor.

No… Lex has captured Clark somehow, maybe while he was sleeping, and now Lex is _experimenting_ on him. Clark needs to escape…find out what happened to Lois… whether she is alright, or if Lex is hurting her too...

But he needs to _leave_… he can't live out his whole life this way… trapped and in pain…

"Clark!"

Oh god, they're going to tear him apart… somebody help him… God, _please_ somebody help him…

"_Clark_! Snap out of it!"

They are bringing out some sort of laser now, and they aim it at his chest. Fearful, Clark squeezes his eyes shut…

"Clark, honey, please! You're scaring me!" he hears Lois call.

For the briefest of moments, he experiences the sensation of falling, so Clark allows his eyes to snap open out of confusion. However, instead of seeing the lab, he sees that he is lying safely in his bed, unharmed. But he is panting so heavily now, and his heart is hammering uncomfortably against his rib cage. That might have been the worst nightmare that he has had in years.

Clark glances to his side, and sees that Lois is sitting upright, backed toward the edge of the bed. Her expression is one of utmost concern, like she has just seen something disturbing from him, and can't figure out how to react to it.

"S-sorry," he apologizes shakily. "I… uh… had some sort of nightmare."

"You don't remember any of that?" she demands.

"Any of what? The nightmare?"

"No, Clark," Lois says, inching cautiously back toward him. "You were… _Christ_, you were _floating_ above the bed, mumbling in some weird language. And then your eyes... your eyes started _glowing blue_."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I have like zero time tomorrow so I'm posting this now. Didn't have a lot of time to check for typos so excuse them if there are any. **

**I always had a headcanon that Superman would win sexiest man alive every year so I made it canon in this story.**

**This was mostly fluff, with a lil bit of fluff. Hope you enjoyed and review! **


	37. Chapter Three - Exhaustion

_CHAPTER THREE - EXHAUSTION _

Lois has spent many mornings looking at Clark over the past year. And usually, it's a pretty pleasant way to spend the morning - he always wakes up looking like he has stepped off the cover of some male fitness magazine. In fact, it's a bit ridiculous sometimes, how good he looks when he rolls out of bed. Usually, his only indication of any unkemptness is his messy hair, which Lois actually finds rather adorable - though he always combs it back to fulfill the role of Superman.

This morning, however, she is not staring just to admire. Right now she is scrutinizing him from across the kitchen table, her eyes narrowed. Even though her coffee cup is held close to her lips, she is too distracted to actually drink from it it - right now she's trying to determine _what the hell_ happened last night.

"Can you please cut that out?" he implores, shooting her an appealing sort of look over his own cup of hot chocolate. "I'm freaked out enough as it is. I don't need you looking at me like I'm some sort of time-bomb."

Lois's eyes narrow even further. "You _promise_ you weren't pranking me? Because - let me tell you - falling from seven feet in the air, even onto a mattress, is really _annoying_ to wake up to, and I will kick your handsome butt."

Despite what she says, a part of her truly hopes that his whole 'episode' was a joke not… something legitimate. Because whatever it really was… it was pretty damn terrifying.

A few hours ago, Lois had been happily sleeping away her jetlag when she felt an extremely odd sensation. Upon opening her eyes, she realized that she was _somehow _rising above the bed at a steady pace. It took several more seconds for her to realize that Clark was the one causing the… ascension. He was _sleep-flying_ or something, and taking Lois along for the ride.

All the while, he was muttering words under his breath, and they weren't quite gibberish, like most sleep-talk. There was a distinct pattern to the speech, and select phrases were repeated several times. A few of them she recognized - like _Krypton_, the name of Clark's home planet… and _Kal-El_, his birth name. The latter part was repeated quite often, to the point where it was absolutely _creepy_.

Once they had reached a certain height above their bed, Lois was forced to tumble to the side and back onto the mattress, where she finally woke enough to realize that something was _wrong._

His eyes were half-open and _glowing _\- glowing like those luminous irises of his had covered the entirety of his cornea. And while he mumbled words in that strange language, his expression seemed to be one of utmost terror and discomfort. Was he having a nightmare? But if he was… why were his eyes open?

She called his name for twenty minutes before she got a reaction out of him, and as soon as she did, he plummeted back onto the bed like a stone.

Now it is morning, and neither of them have slept since the 'incident.' Usually, exhaustion only affects Lois, but Clark looks pretty drained as well - though he probably seems that way because of nervousness, not actually because of fatigue.

"Lois, I swear, I have no idea what that was about," he tells her sincerely, his voice marked by worry. "I was having this nightmare… I was in a lab… and there was someone whispering in my ear and I…" Clark trails off helplessly as he places his mug back on the tabletop, the ceramic CLANG echoing in the silence.

Lois purses her lips, trying to formulate some sort of comforting explanation for it all, but can't. Instead, she reaches over and lightly grasps his hand. His fingers immediately intertwine with her own, and she hears him sigh with frustration.

"Has it happened before?" she asks him.

He snorts like the notion is funny, and replies. "I don't know. You tell me."

"I've never noticed anything. But then again, if it started recently, I haven't been around for two months to notice."

"Exactly. I mean, it's not like I have another bedmate to ask."

She smirks. "Good answer there, Smallville - damn right, you better not have."

He reacts to her smirk with a brief smile, but after that, his features once again rearrange into an expression of worry. Now, he stares intently at the surface of the table, as if the answer to his problem is carved into the wood, but is still beyond his vision.

"I hate this," he mumbles almost petulantly.

"What?" Lois wonders. "That table? I dunno... I think it's fine - it matches the cabinets, as far as I can tell."

He shakes his head fiercely. "No, _not_ the table… (in fact, I picked out all the furniture myself, so it _better_ be okay). What I hate… is the fact that - no matter how hard I try - I can't have the smallest semblance of normalcy in my life. I thought I had my powers under control… but now… I don't know what to think."

"You _do_ have your powers under control, Clark," she assures him. "It was just a little… sleep-floating. It was harmless."

"Okay, but what happens when my sleep-floating turns into sleep-punching, or sleep-heat-vision, or sleep-arctic-breath? And you're right here… in the line of fire-"

Lois interrupts him before he can finish _that_ ridiculous thought. "Listen - you've been dealing with a lot more stress than usual. Maybe more stress than _ever_ _before_. So that was probably your brain's way of telling you to ease up. Just follow its advice and clear your head before bed."

"But I heard myself talking in my sleep, Lois," he disagrees. "And I thought it was just part of the dream. What if I dream that I'm fighting Mongul, and I bring that fight into real life?"

"You won't."

"How can you be sure?"

She says the only thing she can - because it's the only thing she is sure of.

"Because I know you, Clark," Lois says confidently. "And you would never do that, in a dream-state or not. Your willpower is far too strong."

The look he gives her is difficult to read. It's some strange mixture of gratitude and self-doubt and hopefulness. But as far as Lois can tell, she's reassured him enough to get him to stop worrying for the next ten minutes or so, give or take. She considers that an achievement.

* * *

Lois hears the telltale click of Jimmy's camera.

"God, not the Prankster _again_," he moans, glancing at the photo on the monitor with apparent disgust. "That guy is so lame. I wish it were someone cool, at least."

Lois balances her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear. The person on the other side - a Daily Planet correspondent in Florida - has temporarily put her on hold.

"If it was somebody _cool_, then all those people would be in serious danger, Jimmy," Lois reminds him. "In fact, we should consider ourselves lucky that it's only Prankster, especially with Superman occupied with that massive sinkhole in Miami right now…"

A few minutes ago, a guy named Oswald Loomis - a supervillain wannabe with the world's ugliest fu-manchu mustache to match his equally hideous yellow suit - decided to re-adopt his persona of "the Prankster" after his recent escape from prison. So now, using his strange array of animatronic robots, he has proceeded to hold everyone in Glenmorgan Square hostage.

As far as she can tell from her spot behind a police barricade, the robots surrounding the square look like… snakes. Writhing snakes that are circling and herding everyone in the area into a neat little panicking group, thus cutting off escape routes. Under different circumstances, she would be rather concerned - innocent people are trapped in the clutches of a madman, after all. But right now, Loomis is just throwing pies at his "victims," not actually doing anything dangerous, so she's more irritated than anything else.

Nonetheless, the sooner that Clark gets back, the better. Prankster's idea of comedy _sucks_, and with the police officers unable to get past his sea of snake robots (literally, Lois cannot _believe_ Loomis's idiocy), his whole schtick could continue for _hours_.

Besides, everyone is tired of reading about Loomis by now - he has successfully annoyed the city on three separate occasions. He's old news.

As she cranes her neck, trying to get an even better view of Prankster's shenanigans, the Planet correspondent picks up the phone again.

"Lois?" he says.

"Talk to me," she orders. "What's happening? Is he on his way yet?"

"Sinkhole's filled. He's been rebuilding the houses-"

_Of course he has been_, Lois remarks internally.

The correspondent resumes speaking, yelling over the sound of what must be people cheering. "Okay… I think he's finishing up. He should be coming your way now."

Even over the phone, Lois can hear the CRACK of the sound barrier breaking, which means that Clark should be back in a few minutes.

"Alright, thanks," she replies, then hangs up.

"Uh...L-Lois?" Jimmy stammers.

Lois stops craning her neck and turns to look at him, but when she does, she sees that his eyes are trained on the ground. She follows his line of sight, and is greeted by a particularly _annoying_ view of the robotic snakes heading toward her feet. They must have extended their perimeter toward the barricade while she was distracted.

Jimmy immediately tries to scramble away, but Lois grabs his sleeve and pulls him back.

"But Lois, the snakes-" he protests.

She glances down at them again and rolls her eyes. God, they really are ridiculous looking - shiny and bright orange with bulging cartoon eyes. The only thing threatening about them is the way they are writhing around her feet, looking as if they are preparing to wrap around her ankles or bite her.

Not willing to give them the chance, she raises her shoe and stomps down on every one of them, thus reducing them all to pieces.

As she grinds the metal between her heel and the pavement, she tells him: "Nothing to worry about, Jimmy. So long as they don't overwhelm us, we'll be fine. We're staying to get the story."

He points toward the horde of animatronic snakes, which are inching closer. "Hate to break it to you, but they look like they're gonna overwhelm us, Lois."

The officers near her have started shooting at the robots with panicked expressions. As a result, the snakes burst apart, but more keep coming forward, inching toward them with exaggerated fangs bared.

"I don't understand," Lois complains, backing away slightly with Jimmy following suit. "Why _snakes_?"

Just as a small group of snakes is about to lunge at them both, someone very dexterous with a gun manages to destroy each robot with a series of well-placed bullets. The snakes fly apart, left in metal shards on the ground. More are coming, of course, but now Lois can resume stomping on them without becoming wildly outnumbered.

In the meantime, Lois turns to see the shooter, and is greeted by the sight of the Police Captain, Maggie Sawyer, who must have just arrived at the scene.

"The way I heard it," Maggie begins as she continues firing at the robots, "Loomis hijacked a truckful of canned goods, emptied the contents, and filled them with these things. Then he drove it into the middle of Glenmorgan Square to give the tourists a fun surprise."

Even as she shoves Jimmy out of the way of a lunging snake, thus knocking the little robot out of the way with her purse, Lois cannot fully suppress a snort.

"_Seriously_? All this… just to pull the snake-in-a-can gag?"

Maggie shrugs. "What can I say? The guy's a nut. Anyway, is there an ETA on Superman yet? My people aren't getting anywhere with these things, and we're afraid that Loomis might bring out something more dangerous than pies if we fully intervene."

Lois glances at the time on her phone. "I'd say he'll be here right about… now!"

And then, as if on cue, Superman swoops onto the scene, his red cape flapping behind him. The speed of his entrance creates a decent wind that ripples everything from her hair to the leaves on the trees planted between sidewalk slabs.

As he passes above them, Lois hears an odd sizzle. She looks down and sees that all of the snakes have been melted in puddles of red-hot metal on the ground - obviously a result of his heat vision.

Jimmy leans down to examine the remains of the robots, his freckled nose wrinkled. "Whoa. Snake fondue," he exclaims as he snaps a photo of them.

Lois grabs his camera and points it back toward the Square. "Focus, Jimmy! We need to get a shot of Superman arresting Loomis."

He does as she says and snaps photos in the right direction, but he proceeds to complain anyway. "Oh yeah. Big story here. Crackpot who escaped from prison goes quickly back to prison. Woohoo."

Lois, meanwhile, takes out her camera phone so that she too can properly see what's happening. She manages to focus it just in time to see Superman literally lifting Loomis out of the Square by the scruff of his neck. Even from here, the exasperated expression on Clark's face is visible, like that of a parent forced to discipline an unruly child for the millionth time.

As he does this, there are cheers once again, this time from the entire population of Glenmorgan Square. Clark gives them a sort of tired salute as he comes to land in front of Captain Sawyer, Loomis still held firmly in his grasp.

"Good afternoon, Captain," he greets in a tight voice - one marked with what seems to be acute irritation and something rather reminiscent of exhaustion. (Or is it just weariness from having to arrest Prankster so frequently, Lois wonders?)

"I think this one has a spot reserved back at Stryker's," Superman continues.

Lois sees Clark glance at her briefly in her spot next to Maggie, but he pointedly turns away. Such behavior has become rather customary between them - generally, if he sees her as Superman, they try to interact minimally, except for during occasional interviews. That way, far-too-accurate rumors are less prone to spread (even though they tend to spread anyway).

"C'mon, Supes, admit it! It was _funny!_" Prankster snickers as he tries to pull out of Clark's grip, but makes no progress in escaping. Superman is far too strong for the likes of a washed up TV host like Loomis. Meanwhile, Captain Sawyer pulls out a pair of handcuffs, and he can do nothing but groan and complain, "You people have no sense of humor."

Jimmy snorts and captures the reading of the Prankster's Miranda Rights in photos. All the while, Lois hears him mumble, "Funny for obnoxious children, maybe. Not for normal people."

Loomis is finally taken away, leaving Lois, Maggie, Jimmy, and Superman standing in his wake.

"I'll be having a very long talk with the warden at Stryker's," Maggie informs them. "And I've been pushing the mayor to redesign the cells there - to make them more secure. That way Loomis and his lot won't break out again."

"If such a project does get approved, I'd be happy to help with the construction," Superman offers, but with less enthusiasm than usual in his voice.

Maggie shakes her head with a light smirk. "Oh no - you're far too busy for that. You can't do everything, you know… in fact, you seem pretty worn out. Maybe you should take some days off."

Jimmy looks taken aback. "Superman? _Tired_? No way - especially not after a fight with the Prankster. I mean, maybe if he was dealing with that _Joker_ psycho in Gotham - that guy's pretty much the Prankster on steroids when it comes to craziness. But Superman'll be fine, right big guy?"

He looks up at Clark expectantly, but Clark doesn't return the stare. Instead, he glances at Lois once again.

Thus, this time, she can't help meeting his eyes, and he can't help meeting hers. That's when she realizes that he really _does_ look exhausted - there are bags under his eyes, and his irises seem far less bright than usual. Maybe he really _has_ been working himself too hard.

"I'm sorry Miss Lane… Jimmy…" he apologizes. "I don't think I'm feeling up to an interview today."

Jimmy blinks. Even Maggie, despite her advice, looks a bit surprised. Lois is neither of those things - she is simply worried.

"But...but you're invincible!" Jimmy exclaims.

"Listen, Superman," Lois interrupts, pointedly emphasizing certain words so that the message gets across to him. "I've got a deadline to meet. So if you'd let me ask one or two _really important questions_, no pictures, it'd mean the world to me."

He nods knowingly. "Alright, Miss Lane. How about I drop you back off at the Daily Planet? You can ask your questions on the way."

Maggie raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything as she walks away, mumbling something about police paperwork. However, as Superman scoops Lois up into his arms, Jimmy makes a strangled noise.

"Hey! How am I supposed to get back?"

Lois quickly rummages through her purse and tosses him a twenty dollar bill. "For a cab ride."

Jimmy glances between the money, Superman, and Lois with narrowed eyes. "Whatever. Have fun with your _alone time_."

As he walks back toward the road, she barely hears him mumble something about how skeptical he is about her relationship with Clark. He is too far away for her to hear it clearly, however, and now, she and Superman are left mostly alone. Their only company is a bunch of officers nearby, who just stare and mutter at them.

So much for avoiding rumors.

"Hold on," Clark whispers, and Lois tightens her grip around the back of his neck.

Now, they are back in the air, but Lois doesn't bother admiring the skyline. She's a bit distracted by how Clark seems to wobble a bit as he flies, and he continuously blinks in that heavy I'm-about-to-fall-asleep sort of way.

"Christ...are you alright?" Lois exclaims.

"Uhhuh," he murmurs, not really looking at her, as if all of his concentration is focused on flying. "Absolutely fine."

"Smallville - seriously. You don't look healthy. Maybe we should go to a doctor-"

"No," he replies quickly.

"What do you mean, 'no?' You _never_ get sick, Clark. Whatever's wrong with you has gotta be serious-"

"And where should I go, Lois? Star Labs? That didn't turn out so well last time."

An icy feeling spreads through her chest at the memory. She knows that if she had never set up meetings between Superman and Professor Hamilton last year, Clark would have never been kidnapped and poisoned with Kryptonite. In many ways… it was her fault.

But as he stares at her face, he seems to realize those implications, and his expression immediately becomes overwhelmed by contrition.

"I'm sorry, Lois. I shouldn't have brought that up," he apologizes.

She exhales heavily. "If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. I mean, if our roles were switched-"

"You're not to blame for _any_ of what happened, Lois," Clark insists. "Hamilton had everyone fooled. He was a Nobel Laureate, and he helped you on so many articles-"

She scoffs bitterly at him. "Whatever you say, Clark. It doesn't change the fact that you almost spent the rest of your life in a _lab_ because of _my_ screw-up."

His contrition quickly turns to visible distress, probably because he _hates _that she feels this way.

"Lois, everything you did, from introducing me to Hamilton to saving me from him later, was because you cared about me. I know that - and I _can't_ and _won't _blame you for trying to help me."

Just as he finishes speaking, he wobbles noticeably in the air, causing them both to cry out before he rights himself.

"Clark - right now, I'm still trying to help you," she says in a panicked voice. "Whatever this is...it shouldn't be happening. I know we've got a bad history with them, but Star Labs has really cleaned up its act after Hamilton and I think with Maggie keeping some sort of watch out-"

He sighs. "Let's compromise. If I get worse, I'll go in for a check-up. But we'll see how things are after a good night's sleep. Okay?"

"I don't know, Clark…"

"You're making a bigger deal out of this than you should. I'm just _tired._ After some beauty sleep, I'll be chipper as ever. Just you wait."

Lois raises an eyebrow. "If you say so - and will I be joining you for this 'beauty sleep?' Or are you still in full freak-out mode after last night?"

He doesn't answer.

"I could just pour ice water on you if you start sleep-flying again," she offers with a casual shrug. "That would wake up anyone. Even you."

"That's just rude," he tells her mockingly. "I could be _sick_."

"Listen, pal, it's my apartment too, and I deserve some choice as to where I sleep-"

"Well, no matter what, we both have deadlines to meet," he says as he lands on the roof of the Daily Planet and sets her on her feet. "And the faster we do that, the faster we can both go home."

She doesn't miss the way he stumbles a bit when he lands, even though he tries to hide it from her.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: Oooh the mystery builds! And I've always wanted to include a villain as ridiculous as the Prankster, so here he is. **

**Also, I forgot to mention that the previous chapter is one of my favorites of all time. Though I do have some nice picks from book one, like the flying scene right after General Lane's attack ("Trust"), the scene on the roof after Clark finds out about Krypton's fate ("Alone"), and then, finally, the "the Talk" is definitely one of my faves. But I think the one after learning about Krypton's destruction is my favorite, because it's so emotionally charged. **

**If you guys have some favorite chapters, tell me in the reviews (using chapter names if you can). Thanks and see you soon!**


	38. Chapter Four - Interview

_CHAPTER FOUR - INTERVIEW_

After dropping Lois off and changing, Clark flies down to the first floor so that he can create a decent explanation as to where he's been for the last three hours. Once he comes up the elevator, he tells Perry that he was out covering his assignment on a chemical spill just outside of the city. Somehow - between the Miami sinkhole and the Prankster - he managed to squeeze in a tiny interview with the chemical company's PR associate. It was probably the one time he was grateful for someone's unwillingness to distribute information, since the lack of cooperation allowed him to cut the interview short in favor of his Superman duties.

Perry hardly cares, of course; with Lois back, he is all smiles and generous deadlines. Despite the city's disinterest in the Prankster, her "Superman stops sinkhole/Prankster" article is somehow fresh enough for Perry to slap it on the front page - and he certainly wasn't settling. Once Perry crossed out the spelling errors, it was quality to the highest extent.

Clark honestly doesn't know how she does it - how she can make any article, even one as predictable as the mayor embezzling money for the tenth time, or one as quickly written as the one she just produced, as interesting to read as a detective story.

Perry once remarked to him that Lois's writing is like watching a good martial arts performance. Her topics are usually the same, much like the moves in a fight are, but between the predictable kicks and the slaps that her words deliver, there's always one big punch - one that no one expects - that leaves the reader reeling. Clark can do a lot of things… but he can't do that, superpowers or not.

Now, he has his own article handy for a deadline - typed up and loaded on the server in after a half-hour. It's not his best work, to be honest - short and choppy and probably page 14 material - but it's all he can produce given his circumstances. He has promised Perry that he will follow up on it, using sources besides the company's employees to get a real perspective on the spill. But that will be tomorrow's work… right now he can hardly think, let alone go out investigating.

Despite what he tells Lois, there is a certain heaviness to his eyelids - a feeling like his head is filled with something gelatinous and thick. A sharp ringing fills his ears, though he cannot associate it with any earthly sound, which leads him to believe that it is something...internal.

Maybe this is what a headache feels like? He's never really had one before, except for maybe Kryptonite poisoning, but that feels entirely different - like something burning hot poured into his veins, or his cells tearing themselves to shreds. But this… this is like something is trying to force him to sleep by making his moments awake as unpleasant as possible.

Clark stands up from his desk, shaking his head fiercely, as if he can throw the exhaustion from his consciousness. The clock on the wall informs him that it's quitting time, which means that he and Lois can finally go home.

After tossing his scratch pad into his briefcase, Clark finishes gathering his belongings and heads toward the door of his office. Before he fully leaves, he glances out the window, routinely checking for a disaster before he makes a concerted effort to relax. Evidently, the city is quiet for the moment - most of the criminal underworld has probably been far too discouraged by Prankster's easy capture.

Clark closes the door behind himself and heads to the nearby office - the one next to Perry's, with the full-city view - Lois's workspace.

His knock is answered with a quick, "Come in!"

As he swings the door open, he sees that Lois is hanging up her cell phone. She looks beautiful, of course; her silhouette is framed in the light of the window, with her hair is spilling out of a tangled bun on the top of her head. The look on her face is alluring too - mysterious yet proud, like she knows something that no one else does.

"You'll never guess what," she exclaims as Clark fully enters the room, closing the door to give them privacy (considering that their co-workers are reporters, it's not surprising that they're also are quite the gossip-mongers). "...unless you were listening to my phone call, in which case you probably will guess what, but that's beside the point."

He rolls his eyes as he comes to sit in the chair across from hers at the desk. "I don't listen to your phone calls - I told you I wouldn't invade your privacy like that. So what's the issue?"

She glances upwards at him with an eager glint in her eyes. "So I just got off the phone with Vicki Vale, and apparently there's been a 100% confirmed sighting of that Batman vigilante in Gotham City. The dude's real - as real as aliens are in today's day and age."

"Har-har-har. Yeah right," Clark laughs falsely. "He's an urban legend. Everyone knows that. Rumors have been circulating about him for years, but no one has determined anything concrete-"

"Not anymore," Lois disagrees. "He got filmed by Vicki's news station - before he promptly ran off, of course. But there're photographic evidence and eyewitness accounts besides those of traumatized street criminals, so the GCPD can't even deny his existence this time around."

Clark purses his lips. "Wait… isn't this Batman supposed to be extremely brutal? I mean, now that everyone knows he's real, shouldn't they be trying to arrest him?"

Lois shrugs, but a triumphant sort of smile is playing on her lips. "I know the GCPD tried to arrest him years ago, but then they declared him an urban legend, so the investigation was dropped. But now I suspect that was a lie. Maybe they've even been working with him… in an off-the-record sort of way, of course. I mean, Gotham's a rough place - lots of crazies live there. The police are probably resigned to having one crazy stop the other crazies. God knows all those folks at Arkham are always raving about bats."

He squints at her. "Okay, well... why are you excited about this? I don't exactly consider it a good thing that the GCPD has to rely on a madman in a bat costume to fix their problems."

She chuckles. "Said the man who wears a cape."

"That's different."

"Real-ly?"

"Yes. It is. I don't use excessive force, which he does, if the rumors are true."

"Well," Lois continues, "I'm making the Batman my new project. I mean, I need to top my article about you, Smallville. I'd hate to peak so soon. So if we can get an interview with Batman-"

"Wait...you just got back," Clark reminds her with quickly. "And Batman is exclusive to Gotham City. So unless you're planning on leaving again-"

"Clark-"

"-after we just moved in together, and haven't seen each other in months. Plus, didn't you say that you hate Gotham, especially after you broke up with Bruce Wayne guy all those years ago-?"

"First… Bruce should be so preoccupied with his lawsuit that we'll never cross paths again. Second… you did hear me say 'we,' right?" Lois interrupts. "I mean, Clark Kent can't get too many interviews with Superman because of some very obvious reasons, but I figure that Batman is fair game. So we could spend a few days in Gotham together, investigating, like old times."

"As much as I would love to play Bernstein to your Woodward in Gotham City, why don't we work on something closer to home? Like our mothballed story on Lex Luthor, for instance?"

Though Clark does his best to avoid listening to her conversations or other private matters, his ears are always attuned to her heartbeat. He can easily hear the drastic increase in her pulse after his question - evidence of her nervousness, or maybe some sort of guilt. It's unsettling to Clark, to say the least.

He sets his jaw. "You're still covering for him, huh? You don't owe him anything. You know that, right?"

Lois's nod is small but rapid, like someone whose agreement is meant to appease, not to indicate truth. "Of course, I know that. But to be honest, Lex really hasn't been up to anything lately. At least not as far as I can tell. I can't report on news that doesn't exist. Our best bet is to let the lawsuit play out-"

"He's always up to something - actions far worse than patent violations. And he still has a lot of old crimes to answer for, if you haven't forgotten-"

She looks visibly uncomfortable, her expression now decidedly resigned and her eyes focused singularly on her desk. "Clark, please. He saved your life."

"Yeah - after he tried to have me killed. Besides, he did it for selfish reasons. He wanted you to feel and act the way you are now, with this misplaced gratitude. And even if he did do it out of love for you..." Clark suppresses a bitter sigh "...then you shouldn't need to repay him."

Her eyes flick upwards to meet his. "And how would you feel if the situation was reversed, Clark? If he saved my life, not yours?"

Clark opens his mouth to speak, but then snaps it shut. He honestly doesn't know how he would feel. If Lex was the only reason Lois is alive, would he - could he - turn a blind eye toward him? As much as he hopes otherwise...he wonders if he would act any differently.

But then he remembers that Lex has been responsible for Lois nearly dying in the past (though indirectly). Saving Clark, or she, hardly absolves Lex for past sins.

"I can't feel that way, Lois. Not if I'm Superman. I have a responsibility to protect people, no matter what my personal allegiances are," he tells her.

"And what? I'm stupid and irresponsible for not wanting to antagonize the person who saved your life - a person who knows your identity and can reveal it at any time, but has chosen not to?" Lois demands, arms crossed.

"Of course not," he disagrees, closing his eyes in exasperation and exhaustion. God, he just wants to sleep, and he hates arguing with her, but nonetheless, he feels like this is a conversation that needs to happen. "But I'm just trying to rationalize your thinking, and I can't-"

"Rationalize? Clark, we go to Bibbo's bar every week, even though that place has failed almost every health inspection. But we still do it out of gratitude, even if we shouldn't have to owe him. The only reason you think I'm being irrational about this is because it's Lex we're dealing with, and you think that I'm some disloyal-"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it!"

Just he finishes his last three words, Clark hears the door to Lois's office swing open.

From the threshold, a smooth voice then drawls: "Oh dear… I hope I'm not interrupting a lovers' spat.

Clark spins around to see none other than Luthor himself, dressed in a pristine gray suit with a gloating expression on his face.

Lois and Clark glance worriedly at each other, the anger from their argument dissipating.

"What are you doing here, Lex?" Lois says with obvious disdain - enough to fill Clark with relief and pride. Maybe she feels indebted to Lex a bit… but at least she doesn't feel anything else.

Meanwhile, Luthor closes the door behind himself as he enters the room, coming to stand in front of them while casually fixing the cuffs of his jacket.

"Mr. White scheduled me for an interview with you, Lois," he tells them with a smirk. "Or have you not heard?"

"Scheduled? Since when?" Clark demands, meanwhile resisting the urge to rub his own temples. God, his headache is so painful...like a hammer in his skull...

Lex glares at Clark like he is something that fell out of a garbage can, green eyes glinting menacingly. "Since a while ago… Kent. I have enough prestige in this town to pick and choose who my interviewers are, and I want the best one in Metropolis."

Clark glowers right back and begins to stand, his own arms now crossed. "We're off the clock, so your ego will have to wait till tomorrow. Lois and I are going home."

Lex turns to Lois like she is responsible for the behavior he is seeing - like Clark is a poorly disciplined child that she should chastise. Then, like he owns the place, Lex proceeds to approach her and lean comfortably against her desk, his hands still nonchalantly placed in his pockets. Clark resists the urge to literally throw him out of the room.

"You'd think," Lex says patronizingly, only addressing Lois, "that he'd pay me a little more respect. After all, he'd be in the hands of very nasty people if it wasn't for me. But maybe alien freaks are incapable of gratitude."

Clark's hardened expression does not ease as he responds: "Sorry. I generally don't feel anything but disdain for mass murderers."

"I'm so glad that you two have discovered uncharted levels of testosterone," Lois interjects with exasperation. "But I think it's well-established that you don't like each other. Now...what's this nonsense an interview, Lex?"

"For weeks, your editor has been trying to interview me about Lexcorp's new defense satellites. This has been my first available moment - and yours, considering that you just returned from Qurac. So here I am…much to Kent's chagrin," Lex explains.

"We. Are. Off. The. Clock," Clark grits out. "You can't just barge in here and demand to be interviewed at a time that's convenient for you and you alone. Besides, shouldn't you be focusing on your soon-to-be-lost lawsuit-?"

Lex scoffs. "Wayne is an idiot - he'll never prove anything. And I know what time my appointment is, so if you'd please-"

"Would you both be quiet for a minute so I can figure this out?" Lois yells. Then, in the silence, he can hear Lois typing on the computer. It is not long before she whispers: "Dammit."

Clark turns back to her. "What?"

"I do. I do have an interview with him," she informs him, turning her laptop so that he can see her schedule. "Between… everything today… I just forgot to check."

Burning, bitter disappointment fills the pit of his stomach. "Oh."

"I'd cancel...but he does have an appointment… and the Planet really needs the stuff on those satellites…" Lois continues.

Clark tries to say something supportive, like "I understand." But between the headache, and the apprehension drying his mouth, he cannot.

"Exactly…" Lex says. "Now, if you're done acting like a preschooler, Lois and I can leave."

Lois stands and pulls her jacket, which was previously slung over her chair, around her shoulders.

"Lex?"

"Yes, Lois?"

"Insult Clark again, and I will have you kicked out of this building, even if I have to do it myself," she tells him matter-of-factly as she positions herself next to Clark, sliding her hand into his. He relishes in its warmth, but it does not fully overwhelm the sense of foreboding. "Wait outside. I'll be with you in a minute."

Lex glances between them, his eyes suddenly far more calculating and cold than before. They are like poison, those eyes - the same color as Kryptonite, Clark cannot help remarking. And like Kryptonite, their color masks something very deadly - even to someone as invulnerable as Superman.

It is with visible vexation that Lex exits the room, closing the door behind himself.

"Lois," Clark says urgently, staring directly into her eyes, which are breathtakingly warmer than Lex's. "You know that no matter how much we argue… I still love you, right?"

Without so much as a second of hesitation, she throws her arms around him tightly, and he instinctively leans down to meet her lips with his own. The kiss is deep but different - an apologetic sort of kiss.

They pull apart, and when they do, Lois is smiling up at him. "Of course I know that, Smallville - I love you too. Yeah, we may get mad, and disagree sometimes, but it doesn't change how I feel," she replies with a glance at his worried expression. "And this? This is no big deal. It's just an interview - I'll ask generic questions to finish it quickly. In the meantime…" She brushes her finger under his eyes, where he knows there must be bags of exhaustion. "You should get some sleep - you need it. Besides, I'll join you soon enough. I think we've both had a long day."

Clark lifts her hand and presses that to his lips as well. Then, he releases it, nodding to indicate that he's alright… even though he's feeling far from such right now. The pounding in his head has not ceased in the slightest.

She nods back, then heads out the door, leaving Clark alone in her office with the vague feeling that something is about to go terribly wrong.

Lex apparently planned to take Lois to the Halldorf, but considering how underdressed she is for that occasion (and how ridiculously inappropriate it is for him to take her there) she makes him go to a somewhat upscale Italian place instead. She mentally reminds herself to pick up the check at the end of dinner - the last thing she wants is to owe Lex for something else, no matter how small.

The place is spacey - the large, single-paned window on the left side makes the room look much larger than it actually is. Plus, the lighting is so dim that the atmosphere inside matches the atmosphere outside, making it seem like there is no difference between the two.

However, there is one thing that she could do without - the flickering candles that reside on their table. They create the sort of romantic atmosphere that Lois is desperate to avoid.

Nonetheless, the interview stays relatively professional for a while. The worst part is improvising the questions, since she was utterly unprepared for this whole appointment. Luckily, she knows quite a bit about the defense satellites… enough to spew out interrogative after interrogative. It's probably a good thing that she checked the news frequently while she was in Qurac, so Lex's announcement of the satellites' future implementation was no surprise to her.

"So…" Lois says, pressing record on her phone to capture their conversation. "The satellites. How exactly are they supposed to work?"

"Simple. They're retrofitted with enhanced telescopes and sensors to detect extraterrestrial threats from light-years away."

"Detection? That's it? With a billion dollar price tag, that's all they can do?"

"An early warning can be its own defensive weapon, Lois," Lex replies. "Besides, that's their main purpose. They will have other...capabilities once in the sky."

She scoffs. "Why am I not surprised?"

"If you must know, X-Ray lasers - or Xasers - will be added to them, once approved by the government. With luck, they will be powerful enough to incapacitate any sort of invasion force."

Lois squints at him, remembering something that the now-imprisoned Emil Hamilton once told Superman.

"I suspect that there is a strong relation between your x-ray abilities and your heat vision. Scientists have discovered various forms of x-ray lasers, commonly known as Xasers, that operate much like your visual abilities do…" the professor had explained eagerly.

Lois knows just how powerful Clark's heat vision is - it's probably his most terrifying ability, in her opinion. With the way he shoots fire out of his eyes - a fire that burns hotter than anything else on Earth - it becomes difficult to remember that he's still a person, and not some sort of god.

A bit of a more personal image then fills her mind - coming into the bathroom each morning to find Clark examining his own chin, checking for stubble as the barely noticeable smell of burning hair hangs in the air. Apparently his heat vision is the only thing that can trim his hair, if it is rebounded back to him by a mirror. Otherwise, nothing on the planet can so much as pluck out a single strand.

But if a small amount of heat vision can do that - cut something that is normally impossible to cut - could a concentrated amount actually hurt him?

Lex watched Emil and Lois during their whole investigation process with Superman, using some sort of discreet surveillance system in Star Labs. He probably knows exactly how Superman's heat vision works, and has artificially produced the biological weapon in a technological way. The thought certainly makes her nervous.

She swallows before asking Lex: "Is there a chance that, with or without government approval, these satellites could fire their 'xasers' at Earth?"

Lex's expression is smug - he knows where she is headed with this, and is taking great pleasure in knowing that icy fear is spreading through her chest.

"Once the proper paperwork is put through, that could definitely become one of their capabilities."

"And in what circumstances would 'firing at Earth' be warranted?" she continues, unsure whether she really wants to hear the answer.

His smirk makes her want to shiver, it is so unsettling. "In the event of any alien threat, they will be fully primed and armed."

"Any alien threat?" she repeats, Clark's face flashing in her mind. Of course her father - Sam Lane, the new Secretary of Defense - is planning to give Lex jurisdiction over the extermination of anything otherworldly in origins.

"That's what I said, isn't it? You're usually such a good listener, Lois," Lex replies impatiently as he takes a pointed sip from his wine glass.

She hates the way his eyebrows are raised at her - like he is asking her to challenge him, or to beg him to keep Clark safe from his deadly, anti-alien satellites.

Lois is not going to sink that low. She already did that once… and is regretting it. If she needs to, she'll find some other way to keep Clark out of danger - whether that means blackmailing Lex, or screeching at her father, or any other extreme measure. But for the time being, Clark is indestructible enough, and she will not give Lex the satisfaction he wants.

"I'm sure the people of Metropolis will be very happy to know that you're planning to attack the city's savior," Lois remarks with pointed sarcasm - a challenge to meet Lex's own. "They trust him a lot more than they trust you. I mean...did you do anything to stop Mongul, Lex? Besides sit pretty and let Superman protect the city you built, of course."

A dangerous glint alights his eyes now - a glint reminiscent of the flash of a knife - but he does not respond immediately. Instead, he shakes his wine glass in a little circle, effectively mixing the drink. His hand, however, tightens noticeably around the glass's stem to indicate his aggravation.

Eventually, he tells her: "If the world had listened to my warnings, and started fearing monsters from the sky instead of worshipping them, then Mongul wouldn't have been an issue in the first place."

"I'm sure," Lois says, yet again sarcastic.

He places his wine glass back on the table and cocks his head at her, a smugly inquisitive expression altering his previously annoyed features.

"Earlier, I didn't hear very much of your argument with Kent," he begins offhandedly, "but if I had to measure probabilities, I'd bet a very large sum of money that it had something to do with me."

Lois glowers at him. "What can I say, Lex? You bring out the worst in everyone."

"I thought you were making a concerted effort to be nicer to me, Lois."

"I still have a scar from a bullet that had your name on it. I may be easy on you in the papers, Lex, but that doesn't mean I approve of anything that you do."

A waiter comes to the table, carrying their meals. They both go silent at the arrival, preferring not be overheard. Everything they say is… sensitive.

It is only when they are alone again that she asks, "Can we get back to the interview now? I'm supposed to be asking the questions, not you."

He twirls his pasta with his fork. "It'll be difficult to answer questions while I eat. In the meantime, you should just allow me to enjoy the pleasure of your company, along with this delicious meal."

In the hope of sending a message through an unceasing glare, she refuses to so much as look at her plate.

"Lex, understand that I am getting paid overtime for this. Trust me - if I could choose my plans for tonight, I'd be getting ahead on my deadlines, eating takeout, watching bad TV, and probably falling asleep next to Clark. Eating dinner with you is incredibly low on my 'to-do list.'"

She intended the words to be biting. After all, Lex's interest in her is seriously unsettling, especially since she is in a long-term, very loving relationship with someone else (someone who Lex seems rather inclined to 'eliminate' in the crudest sense).

Unfortunately, he seems unphased and unconcerned by her insults.

"How long ago did you tell him?" Lex asks.

"Tell him about what?"

"About what happened that night. About how you came to me for help."

She shakes her head, her lips pressed tightly together. Of course, she remembers that morning in New York City, waking up next to Clark, only to tell him some of the worst news he had heard in his life - that Lex knows his secret. He spent the rest of the day panicking...a bit frustrated too - though he assured her that he didn't blame her for it. Nonetheless, despite what he claimed, Lois figured he felt betrayed by her actions.

"For Christ's sake," she moans, now back in the present. "Would you quit talking about it like that?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like we had some sort of affair, or something. I only asked to you save someone's life, and you did. What do you want? Applause? My undying gratitude? I'm sorry, Lex, but you don't deserve special recognition for doing something any decent human being would do."

"But like you said yourself...you're still going easy on me in the papers," he replies. "I doubt that makes your alien lover very happy."

"Stop calling him that."

"Why? Does it make you uncomfortable knowing that you sleep next to someone who isn't human?"

"No," she declares confidently. "I'm uncomfortable with the arrogant way you say it. Being human doesn't make you better than him."

"Regardless, your argument with Kent… I can only assume it was a result of his fears. He must spend a lot of time wondering where your loyalties truly lie. I mean, back in the day, you two used to spend hours trying to scrounge up evidence to put me away. But now…"

"I feel no loyalty toward you, Lex. Only fear."

"Admitting to fear? That's not like you at all, Lois," he observes with a sort of twisted amusement.

"What? You think fear is a compliment?" she demands. "You know everything about him - his weaknesses, his identity, his enemies, his loved ones. And to me, as someone who understands you, it's obvious that you're not opposed to using those things against him. So maybe he can be reckless by taking potshots at you, thinking that he's the only who will be affected, but I know better. I know what you're capable of. I know that if you are given the proper incentive, you will kill him. And it terrifies me to realize that someone I once cared for… is capable of such terrible things… even when you have the potential to do good."

After that, Lex is rendered speechless. Maybe she's the only one who can do that - who can get right back under his skin, weave words nearly as striking as his own.

It's probably why he's in love with her, much to her chagrin.

But his expression is certainly surprising right now. Is that… remorse that she sees?

"If he wasn't around… if he had never shown up… things would be different," Lex mumbles, his eyes downcast.

"No, Lex," she disagrees. "If he wasn't around, you'd have nothing to hold over me."

Lois then stands, throwing her jacket back over her shoulders. She takes a few seconds to sift through her purse in pursuit of her wallet. Finally, she finds it, and places some cash on the table, next to her untouched food.

"For dinner. As of now, this interview is over," she tells him.

Spinning on her heel, she heads toward the exit, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her retreating silhouette.

Lois opens the door to her apartment to find most of the lamps turned off. The bulbs in the kitchen are still on, but the rest have been extinguished, thus bathing the entire place in a burnt-orange sort of light.

Before she fully crosses the threshold, she takes off her high-heels to maintain the silence, realizing that Clark is probably asleep in the nearby bedroom. He can hear anything, of course - the sound of a fly's wings could probably shake him out of a deep sleep, but that doesn't mean she has to be obnoxious.

Okay, well, not obnoxious enough to wake him out of well-deserved slumber.

She takes the same care while closing the door, sliding it shut so slowly that hardly the click of the lock is audible.

Starving, Lois heads into the kitchen and stands in front of the refrigerator. There's a magnetic white board on its front, where (before they moved in together) he used to leave notes of explanation if he had to take off to deal with stories or disasters. She can't help smirking to see it moved here, still being utilized fully - as indicated by Clark's expo-marker scrawl on the hastily-erased, black-speckled surface.

Tried to wait up. Kept falling asleep. Leftovers are in the fridge, just in case, it reads. Love you. Goodnight.

As promised, Lois finds cartons of takeout right where Clark said they would be. She scarfs down some Lo Mein to satisfy the rumbling of her stomach. Then, she heads to the bathroom to take a quick shower, trying repress the memories of her recent encounter with Lex all the while. Instead, she focuses singularly on the tepid water streaming over her skin, allowing the warm droplets to temporarily wash away her worries.

After changing into pajamas and brushing her teeth, she exits the bathroom and approaches the bedroom. On the way there, however, her bare foot collides with something hard enough to make her trip. She falls on all fours, knocking the object - whatever it may be - over, so that the clatter of spilling objects can be heard. Her palms flat on the carpet and her mind stunned by pain, Lois swallows a loud curse and examines the cause of her accident.

It's Clark's briefcase - he must have left it outside the door so that he would not forget it the next morning.

She begins to return the contents of the bag to their rightful spots inside the velcro pockets, replacing them one by one. Just as she is about to finish up by dropping Clark's notepad within the case, a glance at the writing on the paper makes her curious.

In the darkness, she is forced to bring the pad close to her eyes to see it properly. But as she squints, Lois realizes something startling.

The writing, whatever it is, is not in English. They are symbols - comprised of lines and circles that interconnect with a quality reminiscent of circuitry. Lois is sure of one thing, though - it is not a language she has ever seen. Maybe not even a language found on Earth. And the letters are scrawled almost frantically across the notepad, like some urgent warning.

Wait… she has seen those symbols before… seen them recently…

Almost fearfully, Lois gets up and heads back toward the fridge, where his note to her was written. She looks closely at the white board, and is even more alarmed by what she finds.

What she thought was an excess of expo marker dust - left behind from a haphazard erasure of a previous note - is actually nothing of the sort. A comparison of the markings on the pad reveals that they are more symbols, identical to many of the ones visible on the page.

The silence in the room is then cut by the sound of a tormented cry, and Lois jerks with fright as if it were the slash of a knife. It is coming from the bedroom…from Clark.

She sprints toward the door, dexterously jumping over the briefcase in the way. After bursting into the room, she is greeted by the sight of Clark floating midair, tossing and turning feverishly in place, his eyes open and glowing in the same terrifying way they were during the previous night.

The sound of his voice is strange. Sometimes, it is decidedly Clark's - but fearful and pleading and desperate. But then, at other times, it is almost robotic, speaking that strange language that she figures must be the vocal version of the words written on the page.

"Clark!" she yells from the doorway. "Wake up! You're sleep-flying! Whatever it is, it's not real!"

In reality, though… she's not sure about the last part anymore.

He doesn't respond to her pleas, of course, so Lois drops the notepad and decides to stay true to her promise. She runs to the kitchen sink and fills a nearby coffee pot with as much water as possible. Then, after sprinting back into the room with a chair in one hand and the pot in the other, she proceeds to climb up onto the seat like a stool, and dumps the water on his head.

His reaction is instantaneous - he gasps like someone who has been saved from drowning, then plummets back down onto the bed. Now, his eyes are now longer glowing, but they are wide and fearful.

"Sorry," she apologizes, climbing down and placing the pitcher on the chair. "I...I didn't know what to do. I figured water would work."

Clark is panting, his expression still panic-stricken as he sits up to face her. She has hardly ever seen him so afraid. The only time, perhaps, was after an encounter with the leader of the Bay Demons gang, when she had promptly (and humiliatingly) fainted. Her abrupt dissolve into unconsciousness had visibly terrified him… but the look he wears now, though similar, seems drastically different.

"There...there was a lab," he manages in a strangled voice, like that of someone prophesizing impending doom. "And I couldn't get out...they were doing things to me and I couldn't escape...and there were these voices whispering in my ear. They wouldn't stop-"

"It's alright, Clark," she assures him despite the worry consuming her own mind, and throws her arms around him. His skin is wet and cold, which only worsens her need to shiver. "It was just a nightmare."

He returns the embrace tightly - urgently - and buries his face in her neck as he continues to breathe heavily. She rubs his back with her palms, trying to comfort him… but she doesn't know what to think or do anymore - not after what she has just seen.

"It was so vivid, though," he anguishes. "All of my senses...I could have sworn that I was just there…"

"You weren't," she tells him. "You've been here the whole time - sleeping."

"God, what's happening to me, Lois?" he asks. "There's something wrong… a buzzing in my brain…"

Lois doesn't know how to respond, or how to truly console him, so they just clutch each other tightly. It is yet another night that they do not sleep.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I am so excited for batman v superman **

**I still don't see why comics, tv shows, and movies alike still think that Bruce can legitimately beat Clark in a fight. If Clark was ever truly trying, Bruce wouldn't stand a chance (Check out _Superman: Sacrifice_ for textual evidence). Clark's just too nice to ever really hurt someone. **

**Anyway there's gonna be Clois in it and I'm excited. **

**Hope you enjoyed! I'd love some reviews!**


	39. Chapter Five - Roots

_CHAPTER FIVE - ROOTS_

"You _need_ to sleep," Clark urges, easily keeping in pace with Lois's jog. "Just because I can't doesn't mean that your health should suffer-"

"Please, Clark… Do you… really think… that this… is the first week… that I've gone without shut-eye?" she asks between heavy breaths, pressing along the sidewalk as she runs. "I'm fine… If anyone needs rest… it's you."

It's a shortly after dawn, and while Metropolis is a city that never sleeps, the roads and sidewalks are much emptier at this time of day. Everything is lonely and hazy and gray, and while Clark knows that the sun is rising in the East, it is obscured by thick clouds and crisp, cold air. Winter has resided here for too long, and given the increments by which outdoor temperature has become more bearable, he assumes spring is approaching at a snail's pace.

But he is actually glad for the lingering frigidity. He needs it right now.

The past few days have been torturous. His headaches are unceasing, and his eyelids oftentimes feel heavier than anything even _he_ can lift. He can't use writing utensils properly, because he keeps unconsciously writing in that odd language (Kryptonian, perhaps?). And whenever he actually manages to fall asleep, he is plagued by terrifying nightmares, each one progressively worse than the last. The mental torment presents him with something of a predicament - he can sleep, and avoid what appear to be physical pains, or he can avoid sleep, and avoid the paralyzing fear of those dreams.

The latter option is the one that Clark consistently chooses. He has the strangest feeling that, if he allows himself to remain in those dreams for too long, he will never be able to escape. The idea is inexplicable too. The people at Star Labs were unable to find anything wrong with him, and couldn't fathom why his body is suffering from exhaustion. So he endured a stressful trip to a lab for _nothing _(though he admittedly had Maggie Sawyer with him to ensure that they left him unharmed).

Lois doesn't sleep much either - probably to keep him sane, though a part of him strongly wishes that she wouldn't. She keeps him awake with conversation throughout the nights, or blasts music at full volume so that he can't drift off. The problem is that she, as a human, is actually dependent on sleep. It's not something that she can just _forsake_.

At this point, he doesn't know how many cups of coffee she has drank - probably something far beyond a healthy amount. But somehow she was cognizant enough at four in the morning to suggest that they go jogging before work.

"There's nothing like a bit of cold-air and blood-pumping exercise," she said, "to clear our heads."

And then, with a playful smirk, she tossed him the shortest pair of men's running shorts that he had ever seen, which he quickly exchanged for a sweatpants amidst a burning blush.

"I'm not...I will _not-_" he stammered back, before she interrupted:

"Mortification also gets the blood pumping too."

Her advice was helpful, though (regardless of the shorts situation, though he doesn't even know why she _has _those things). He can feel the air as he runs - its effect cool and refreshing, similar to that of water on the skin. But the blood-pumping exercise? Not so effective. Physical exertion doesn't usually affect him, and when it does, it's usually in catastrophically dangerous situations. Adrenaline will hardly keep him conscious (if that's even what his body produces. It's not like he actually _knows_.)

Lois, unlike him, can at least drink coffee. But caffeine is just as ineffective on him as any other drug or disease - there's nothing he can do to stop his exhaustion besides keep himself busy.

It's simply unfair. His brain is _demanding sleep_, and his body is biologically unable to deny it because it normally _doesn't have_ weaknesses.

"Christ… I need… a… water break…" Lois pants suddenly, her hands coming to rest on her knees. Clark immediately stops short at their spot, which is in the middle of a small, recreational park.

"Who… suggested… this again?" she continues to gasp.

He grins and hands her the bottle he was holding, from which she immediately takes a gulp.

"I thought you said you liked running," he recalls.

Lois brings the rim away from her lips, still breathing rather heavily as she speaks.

"I did… in college… during my youth… but that was a long time ago."

Clark rolls his eyes. "In that case, Grandma Lane, maybe _prune juice_ is better suited for someone your age."

"Wow...You know, you're really… sassy when you're… tired."

"Well, as impossible as it may be, you're even more melodramatic when _you're_ tired."

Her glower is exaggerated and mocking, but he can still see the dark circles under her eyes, clear as day. Guilt stabs at the pit of his stomach like shards of ice - she is exhausted and _suffering _because of him. There's no way to deny it. Of course, he knows that if he points out such a thing, she'll deny him as the cause anyway… but logically it's clear that he _is_ to blame, plain and simple. His nightmares keep her awake, and her life has been all but consumed by her efforts to avoid those nightmares of his.

Nonetheless, she slides her hand into his, her fingers warm and pulsating with her rapid heartbeat. They have a few hours to kill before work, so they stop running and meander along the path.

He flashes back to a simpler time - New York City in May, where the slanted rays of the setting sun illuminated a college's blossoming campus. Lois, clad in a blue dress, had cheeks flushed with belated excitement, and her purse - which contained her newly-received Pulitzer prize - was clutched close to her. Clark and Lois kissed in a gazebo, unworried… but now… it seems like all he can do is worry...

"I still wish you wore the shorts," she jokes, leaning into him a bit as the move onwards. "I mean, a run with a view would definitely get _my_ blood pumping-"

Clark smirks."It'd only be fair if we got matching pairs."

"Is that supposed to discourage me? Because if it is, you're underestimating me - I'd be down for that. We'd be the sexiest running couple in Metropolis."

He laughs. "Next time, maybe."

They descend into companionable silence, but there has been heaviness added to it lately - a kind that wasn't there before. It is recognition of the fact that something is _wrong_ with Clark… and they're both afraid because of it.

She'll stand by him no matter what - he knows that - but maybe that's what worries him. What if he really is losing his mind, in some way? What if he becomes dangerous? And she's by his side, right in harm's way…

But even if his health is truly slipping away, he also feels like she's the only thing keeping some semblance of his sanity. This exhaustion … these nightmares… those strange words that he mumbles in the middle of the night - they're so unlike who he is and what he normally experiences. He'll wake up absolutely positive that a nightmare was real, but when she tells him otherwise, with so much sincerity and concern… his panic eases enough for him to come his senses. _You're here_, he will always realize. _With her. No where else. You're going to be alright. _

They (the people of Metropolis and the world over) say Superman represents Truth, Justice, and the American Way. But in all honesty...he's not so sure about the American Way - it seems like that phrase can be defined pretty nebulously, and he's not technically American. And Justice? Well… he does his best with that, but he generally sticks to making citizens' arrests, leaving justice to the courts to figure out.

Truth, however, he aspires to embody. He knows truth - the kind that really matters - because Lois represents that to him. She has her loyalties, of course - the white lies she makes for the sake of his identity. But all other truths… she pursues those fearlessly - no, not fearlessly; she embraces the fear and overcomes it - despite her lack of bulletproof skin. He can only hope to live up to her example.

Maybe he wasn't _always_ head-over-heels in love with her, but ever since that day a few years ago, when he had first read one of her stories, he had learned to admire her to no end.

It was only when she stood up to General Lane for _him_ that he was a full goner. Her face was determined, her unyielding visage perhaps reminiscent to that of Joan of Ark, and her words so fervent and convincing that they evoked memories of the most moving of sermons. To him, in that moment, she was… she was _everything at once_ \- beauty and rage and compassion and truth and heart and soul and mind… and Clark was nothing but a dumb kid in a red cape.

He loves her - with the kind of magnetic love that he can feel in every cell of his body. And sure, he's been in love before, like with Lana a few years ago, but this is an entirely different species of emotion… one dictated by a constant sense of awe and longing, courtesy of one Lois Lane.

She loves him back - that much he can tell. But he wonders what she thinks when she looks at him. Is it the same? Does she _feel _the same exact way as he does for her (are humans even capable of the type of love he is feeling, or is it specific to Kryptonians)? What if she doesn't? What if she changes her mind?

But she must feel _something_ similar, if not equally or exceedingly more intense. Last year, when he was kidnapped, she risked _everything_ to save him. _Everything. _It was another in a long line of things that adds to his indescribable admiration for her.

"So I've been thinking about...you know… what's been happening with you," Lois says suddenly, interrupting his reverie. "So are you actually gonna listen, or are you just gonna keep gawking at me?"

Clark has been staring at her the whole time, he realizes. Probably very creepily. His mind tends to wander when he is this tired - not that he had much experience being tired before this week.

"I'm listening," he assures her quickly, shooting her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Lois. I'm so sleepy… I must have been zoning out."

"Yeah, well...you're lucky that you're cute when you zone out."

"Weren't we supposed to be discussing something important?" he reminds her, suppressing a laugh.

"Right. Anyway, your nightmares - they clearly have something to do with your… Kryptonian heritage," she says, lowering her voice so they are not overheard, even though no one is really around. "Maybe they're trying to tell you something. I mean, maybe your ship - or whatever brought you to Earth - has some sort of clue as to what's causing this."

Clark freezes a bit. He has never shown his ship to anyone - save his parents, but they knew about it before even _he _did. Lana never even saw it… the idea made him too uncomfortable.

A part of Clark has always felt that the ship (or perhaps he should call it a lifeboat, because Krypton is long gone) absolute legitimizes the fact that he is an alien. It is the proof, complete and undeniable, that he does not truly belong on this planet.

The paranoid side of him thus resurfaces. It's one thing to _tell_ Lois that he is an alien, and perhaps demonstrate a few extraordinary powers. But could seeing his ship change her mind? Make her believe that he is something repulsive and inhuman?

_No_, he thinks to himself. _You're being stupid. She has never cared about your origins. _

"_Cla-ark_? Anyone home?" Lois calls, waving her hand in front of his face.

Shaking his head back to attention, he responds: "Sorry. You said you think my ship holds the key to all this?"

"Well, I mean, I'm not sure of anything. But since it's our only _real_ connection to Krypton - besides you, of course - then it might be worthwhile to give it a look. Seems logical."

"But to go all the way to Smallville-"

"You can fly us there. Besides, it's Friday. We can go after work."

Work, which they still have to deal with, later today. It's yet another thing affected by his nightmares. He can't even submit an article without Lois intercepting and editing out random pieces of kryptonese drawn on his pages. Luckily, she is able to erase them or print out new copies before people get suspicious, but it is yet another hassle that has been occurring throughout the week.

"Jeez," he breathes. "Is it really only Friday? I feel like I've been awake for a month."

"You have been," she tells him casually. "It's been a month since I came back. You don't remember?"

Clark makes a strangled noise. "_What? _I don't remember _anything!_"

Lois puts up her hands in mock surrender. "Kidding. It's only been a week. Less, probably."

Exhaling with relief, he proceeds to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Don't tease me about that kind of stuff, please. I'm having enough trouble keeping track of my own mind, as it is."

"Well...maybe returning to your roots, both Kryptonian and _Smallvillian_, will fix you right up."

He wraps his right arm around her back and pulls her close, trying to assure himself that everything will, in fact, be okay. The problem is that, no matter how nice they sound, assurances hardly promise anything.

* * *

After a shaky/sleepy flight, Lois and Clark touch down in Smallville, landing right in front of the weather-battered, yellow house that she knows Clark grew up in. The air is so fresh here, Lois remarks - clear and clean and bracing. Not a hint of city smog. And unlike in Metropolis, the sun is shining lightly on the empty fields. It's obvious that even warmer temperatures are necessary for the Kents to plant anything, but it still seems like spring favors Kansas more than it favors Metropolis.

A dog's bark cuts through the air, deep and excited. Someone - or something - knows that they are here.

As Clark sets Lois on the ground, her hand still enclosed in his, she can see his expression visibly brighten. If there's anything that can improve Clark's day - no matter how bad that day may be - a dog can. Clark's a sucker for all animals. And this is not just any dog - it's Shelby, his family's beloved border collie.

Lois is sure that, after tonight, she'll _once again _have to deal with his pleas to buy a dog. It's no coincidence that he insisted on an apartment that allows pets. Lois, unfortunately for him, is not very fond of furry creatures. They're certainly cute in short spurts, but they begin to bother her in the long run.

If only she was a little less fond of Clark's puppy-dog "_please please please, Lois"_ look, with those unbelievably convincing blue eyes. It's a miracle that she has remained steadfast for so long.

Sure enough, Shelby's tiny bounding form can be see scrambling toward them amidst ringing barks. When she meets them fully, Clark is forced to drop Lois's hand so that he can catch Shelby, who immediately jumps into his arms. Shelby licks his face affectionately, her pants heavy and hyper.

"Aw...didja miss me, girl?" he coos, unsuccessfully trying to avoid her incessant nuzzles. "Yes, yes. I love you too."

Lois chuckles and runs her hand along Shelby's black and white fur. The dog immediately switches her attention to trying to lick Lois's hand instead.

"Uh-oh...it looks like I have competition, huh?" Lois asks jokingly, referring to Shelby's special place in Clark's heart.

"Yup. Shelby is _also_ a better kisser than you," he replies as he places the dog back on the ground, and she proceeds to frantically circle their feet as her tongue hangs out of her mouth.

"Dammit. _And _she has better hair than me."

He places his arm around Lois's shoulders, and she can feel its warmth radiating through her jacket. "You're just at a disadvantage, I'm afraid."

They approach the front door of the house, and soon enough, the Kents are opening the door and heading outside. Martha, a stout woman with graying red hair, is first to exit the house and see Clark. Her features immediately alight with surprise as she calls out: "Clark? Is that you?"

Jonathan Kent, meanwhile, scrambles to put on the glasses that hang around his neck on a lanyard. He squints through them, and proceeds to wear an expression very similar to Martha's as he moves toward Clark, arms outstretched for an embrace.

Lois, per usual, hangs back so they can enjoy their intimate family moment without any interruption from her.

"What're you doing here, Clark?" Martha asks, clutching her son tightly. "Thought you'd be crazy busy in Metropolis, with the repairs and all…"

"What?" Clark says with mock indignance. "I need an excuse to visit my parents?"

"Of course not, Clark," she retracts. "What I mean to say is…"

"-you usually have more important matters to attend to than sharing a slice of apple pie with us," Jonathan finishes for her, his voice suddenly growing serious. "Is something wrong, son?"

Clark appears to swallow and glance back at Lois. As they exchange looks, she sees that his expression is steely. Thus, the message he sends to her very clear - his parents are not to know why they are _really_ here. He doesn't want them to worry.

Then, he turns back to them with a smile. "Nah. I just figured it was time for a visit."

* * *

"Your mother noticed your exhaustion within _two minutes_ of you being here," Lois tells Clark as she plops her overnight backpack beside the bed in the guest room. "How long are you planning on keeping your...problem...from her, exactly? Your '_I've just been busy' _ excuse was pretty half-assed, if you ask me."

Clark sits down on the bedspread, and lightly pulls Lois down beside him. He knows that the closer they are in proximity, the quieter they can talk. God...if only the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears would be as quiet.

Now that she is beside him, Clark faces her and looks directly into her eyes. Their sides are already pressed together - in other circumstances, their position would be cozy, but Lois does not seem to be relaxing. Her eyebrows are still still raised at Clark, challenging him to provide a satisfactory answer. The exhaustion on her face, hidden under her inquisitive expression, still distresses him. So many things have been distressing him lately.

"Look, they spent twenty-plus years worrying about me - non-stop. Until we know more, there's no reason to tell them about it," he says, his eyes trained on the closed door. "I know you weren't home, but they called me almost _every day_ after Mongul's attack. It drove them crazy. If they knew there was something else wrong with me-"

"Clark, there's nothing wrong with you. You're experiencing some sort of… sickness. Or maybe it's a form of alien insomnia," Lois asserts. "We'll figure it out, and when we do, you'll be good as new. Your parents can help-"

"My strength used to scare them," he recalls offhandedly, remembering all the arguments he used to have with them - his memory is so good...eidetic or autobiographical memory, even. They argued about football, about going to parties, about writing for the newspaper. He remembers that they even considered home-schooling him, they were so terrified of _someone _finding out about his origins. At the time of that disagreement, he had been in preschool, so he hardly knew _why _they were so afraid. Sure, he could break the walls of his crib with his bare hands at even that young age, but a preschooler only found such a feat _fun_, not concerning or odd.

It was only upon entering high school that his extraterrestrial roots were revealed to him. There were signs before that… suspicions formed whenever he lifted tractors high above his head, or ran laps around the farm so quickly that his pace rivaled the speed of sound. But it was the day he flew for the first time that his parents decided to do it - to show him his ship. And though Clark had never feared his abilities prior to that moment, he suddenly became very, very terrified.

To go his whole life, thinking that he was human - a human that was blessed, perhaps by God, with incredible abilities - and to suddenly have that notion torn from him, was near traumatizing. If he wasn't Clark Kent, who was he? _What _was he? All those movies he watched as a kid told him that aliens were monsters - scary, hungry things that wanted to kill and conquer. Was that what he was? A _monster_?

When he looks back on it, he can joke that he had the end-all-be-all of teenage identity crises. But sometimes it doesn't seem very funny at all. Because at the end of the day, he knows nothing of Krypton - of his race, or species, or culture. And everything he knows and loves - Earth, humanity, his friends and family - doesn't truly belong to him. He is an interloper… one that perhaps _stole_ the place of the Kents' potential son - the one they would have had or adopted if he had not arrived. All these things… they belong to _him_, don't they? This faceless, nonexistent stranger who occupies the hypothetical world where _Kal-El_ _of Krypton _never arrived.

"My strength...used to scare them," he repeats again. "And this will scare them too. It makes them uncomfortable… being reminded that they're not my real parents. So if this has something to do with my origins - my birth name and planet - then they'd probably be happier if they were left out of it."

Lois's lips part in that way he _knows _precedes an opposing argument that she is trying to word kindly. It's difficult for her - she's so blunt, most of the time. It's touching even, that she makes the effort to be sensitive. There's not many people that she does that for.

But finally, she comes out with it.

"I know you think that you're making things _easier_ for the people you care about, by shutting them out like this," she begins. "But if you and I are an indication of anything, it's that truth oftentimes ensures a better outcome than a lie."

He wants to be truthful. He really does. For her. For everyone. For his parents.

But the truth is dangerous, isn't it? He's indication of that. And so is Lex, with Clark's identity so firmly in his grasp.

"I can't do it, Lois. They're the ones who taught me how to hone my powers. If I'm losing control… then I'm failing them… I'm letting them down," he insists. Then, he presses a kiss to her cheek and stands. "I better go make sure I have clothes that fit in my room."

Lois squints at him. "Hold on...we're _not_ sharing a room?"

A blush immediately spreads across his cheeks, and he turns back to respond to her. "Uh...no. We're not."

Lois suddenly looks like she has realized something vaguely hilarious. "Oh my god. You haven't told them that we've moved in together, have you?"

He stares at the floor and nervously shuffles his feet. "They know that we're very serious. It's just that-"

"-You don't want them to know that you've _misplaced_ your chastity ring?" she offers with amusement.

"My parents are really..._traditional_, Lois. They would want us to get married first, and if we're sharing an apartment, and by extension, a bed, it implies…you know..."

"Well, it's not exactly an incorrect implication, right? Besides, I wonder how your _traditional folks _would feel, knowing that their son lost his virtue to one _Lana Lang_ during college."

His blush deepens as he flashes back to his sophomore year at Metropolis University - that weekend when he briefly returned to Smallville to visit his then-girlfriend Lana Lang… the weekend that turned into something a lot more intense (and terrifying, given his strength) than he initially anticipated. But Lana wanted to try, and so did he - they were in love then, perhaps even considering marriage, like many small-town high school sweethearts might. It was an important milestone - confirmation that he could even fill that sort of human role, or maybe even _feel_ like humans do.

There were other times with Lana after that… he was so sure that she was 'the one' for so long, but then things fell apart so rapidly. Lana wanted to stay in Smallville - to take care of her father's bank - while Clark wanted to travel the world and become something _more. _That became an insurmountable difference… Lana wanted Clark Kent, not Superman, even though the two quickly became inseparable. And for some time, they both hoped that they could overcome that difference, but neither were brave enough to try a relationship again for fear of ruining what was left of their friendship.

And then Clark met Lois...and it was like there were types of emotions he had never quite felt before… things he had never felt with Lana. If he had...he wonders whether he would have left Smallville at all.

God, he almost can't believe that he told Lois about all those things. It's even harder to believe that she was okay with them - enough to joke about them now, even. He never even had it in him to ask Lois about Lex or her other ex-boyfriends. Clark has never had the opportunity to learn if he is the jealous type - at least not in the obsessive, aggressive way - and he is not keen to find out.

Referring back to the night Lois mentioned, he stammers: "Okay...that was...we were _kids-_"

Lois flops backwards onto the bed so that she is casually lying down. "I'm just teasing you, Smallville. I just think it's funny. To be honest, I've never been a big believer in the 'not-until-the-honeymoon' thing. Love's love. Doesn't matter when it happens."

"I really do love you, okay? They know that. I've told them. But they are so old-fashioned sometimes..."

"Could be worse. They could be my dad," she says.

"That-" he responds, "-is very true. Though I'm sure what happened between your father and me was a misunderstanding. Uh… you know, I was thinking… maybe we could try to make amends sometime soon - explain the situation to him? Invite him over for Thanksgiving or-?"

She scoffs. "No. Never ever."

"Why not? I thought you'd want him to understand."

"If he found out that I was in love with an alien being, and sharing my bed with said alien being, I don't think he would rest until said alien being was dead."

"And you're giving _me _a hard time about not telling my parents?" he demands indignantly.

"Just go check your room, Smallville," she laughs. "I'll try to keep mentions of our nighttime _frivolity_ to a minimum at the dinner table."

"Yeah, well, at least my parents can't threaten you with the _entire_ U.S. military," he grumbles, closing the door behind him.

There is one more reason why they are staying separately. He wants her to be able to sleep, without having to worry about his nightmares. She needs it, and he won't have her suffering anymore. Not because of him.

* * *

Lois watches as Martha scrutinizes Clark from kitchen the table.

"It's not right," Martha says. "You don't look right, Clark. You're always so healthy, so energetic-"

"I'm _fine_," Clark interrupts as he continues scrubbing food off the dishes. He stands at the sink, wiping the plates until they sparkle visibly. Though he appears to be enthusiastic, with rigid posture and animated movements, it is clear to Lois that the behavior is beyond forced. And if Lois can tell such things, then she doubts that he is fooling his own mother in the least.

"You _always_ say you're fine," Martha replies suspiciously. "Even when you're far from it."

"Well, in this instance, I actually _am_ fine. I'm just a little tired - all those municipal repairs will do that to a person, even if that person has superpowers. That's why I'm visiting. I needed a break from it all."

Lois wonders if Clark feels the same coldness as she does when she hears this lie. There are few things she hates more than dishonesty - especially when she does such a thing to people as kindhearted as Clark's parents. But she supposes that, given his origins and his past, he has been forced to do a lot of lying throughout his life, and has gotten quite used to it.

Unfortunately, deceit is more difficult for Lois to partake in.

"Leave him be, Martha," Jonathan Kent insists as he begins distributing pieces of pie. "He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

"You can turn a boy into a man, but a mother stays a mother forever. It's my _job_ to worry about him," Martha argues, still looking at Clark with concern.

"Can we have a change in topic, please?" Clark asks with polite impatience (Lois silently remarks how he is probably the only person who can make impatience sound polite).

"Sounds good to me," Jonathan grunts. "So...what do you and Lois do for fun in Metropolis? You two have been together for...what? A year now?"

Lois tries not to choke on her apple pie. _Of course_ he has to ask what they do for fun, as a couple. And while they have participated in plenty of _wholesome_ activities besides the ones she cannot mention to his traditional parents, in her panic, she finds herself temporarily unable to remember them.

Clark leaves the sink and drops back into the chair beside her. Upon looking, she realizes that he seems to be experiencing the same loss for words.

Realizing that she is the one who must take control of the situation, she clears her throat and says: "We, y'know… report."

"Yes," Clark adds quickly. "So much reporting - Perry's always asking for stories. And we go out to dinner a lot. At the Ace of Clubs."

Lois nods fiercely. "Uh-huh. Lots of dinner. Plus, we go flying sometimes. And there was that picnic-"

"Right!" Clark agrees with overblown enthusiasm. "Flying. All the time. And picnics. Then um...we have movie nights."

"Movie nights and uh… we… we exercise together."

"Definitely! Gotta stay healthy!"

"And it's always blood-pumping. Blood pumping exercise," she rambles nervously, struggling to come up with any more typical romantic activities.

He blinks in confusion. "Ex-Exactly. Blood pumping..."

"Y'know, like heavy breathing...crazy, _crazy _exercise."

Clark clears his throat before whispering pointedly: "I think he gets the point, Lois."

"Flying together, eh?" Martha asks, looking wistfully at them both. "Dear me, that sounds lovely."

Lois glances sideways at Clark, relieved at the topic change. Meanwhile, she is also remembering all the wonderful times they've had, floating above the Metropolis skyline. The experiences she has had with him are indescribable. Incomparable to any romance that she has seen or experienced with anyone else - even in stories about fictional couples. After all...how many other women can say that they have kissed their boyfriends several thousand feet in the open air, suspended by nothing but their lovers' arms?

None. None at all.

"It is pretty amazing," Lois comments as she bites into her apple pie. "Breathtaking. Don't tell me he hasn't taken you flying, Martha."

"I've _tried_ to," Clark interjects. "She's too afraid of heights. We get two feet up, and she freaks out completely."

Jonathan chuckles. "It's true. And as a man of the earth, I don't particularly like heights either. But Clark adores them, and it's good that he's found someone to share that with."

Lois and Clark share a look - an appreciative, several second long one, with brown eyes meeting blue ones. Because _yes_, they are certainly happy that they have found each other. But to Lois, the value of their relationship goes beyond their appreciation of heights - it extends to the way they banter, and the way they report stories, and the way they always seem to do the _exact_ thing the other needs, in times of distress. And above all, it extends to the way that every moment with each other is electrified with _rightness_… like the only place they truly belong is by each other's sides.

His hand slips into hers, and she holds it in the customary way they always do. By now, the feeling of his hand is familiar - smooth and warm and strong. She realizes that her own must be calloused and worn - bruised after all the times she has punched someone, or rough from the overuse of her fingers during the writing of stories. Sometimes she wonders whether such imperfections bother him, but more likely, he will somehow see them as another reason to love her.

"It's been a good year," Clark says quietly but firmly.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I saw bvs and I bawled my eyes out**

**I'm not even being biased when I say that the critics were totally wrong about the movie - it was good, despite what they said. Just different from most superhero movies. I went into that movie after reading the reviews and thought it was going to be awful - but it wasn't. *SORT OF SPOILER* The ending was tough though, and I'll be dead inside for a while *END OF SPOILER***

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I've fallen a bit behind in writing this book and I need to get on top of things again. Please review!**


	40. Chapter Six - Lifeboat

_CHAPTER SIX - LIFEBOAT_

As soon as dinner is over, Clark and Lois make some pathetic excuse about taking a walk around the farm. They also absolutely _insist _that Martha and Jonathan go to bed, or stay inside, because _of course_ Clark will take care of the chores along the way, so they shouldn't worry.

In reality, the last thing Clark wants is for his mother or father to catch him unearthing the alien spaceship in the cellar - then they'll _really _know that something is wrong.

The cellar is not in the house, but in the barn. It'll be interesting, he thinks, to see how Lois reacts to being around all the animals. He somehow doubts that she has _ever_ been in a barn of any kind, so it occurs to him that she might react like a fish out of water.

Given the way she constantly makes fun of his "midwestern ways," this whole experience could be varying degrees of hilarious to Clark.

If only he wasn't about to partake in the somber task of seeing the last remaining piece of his planet - other than himself, of course - and subsequently showing that piece to someone he loves but from whom he is irrevocably different. He wonders if the ship will frighten her, even if it does not change the way she ultimately feels about him. Advanced technology, even without the implications inventors' power - can be terrifying in itself.

Oh yes... he definitely wishes that he will _only _have to deal with her reaction to the barn, instead of the additional shock of viewing something far more mind-blowing.

Outside the house, the night time air is frigid and windy. For him, the breezes carry smells from hundreds of miles away. There are mangoes growing in South Africa - their scent sweet and light. Ozone is detectable from somewhere far-off - perhaps there is a thunderstorm in London. In places a little more local, he can smell the trash cans from the town diner, and the thick car exhaust from the Ross's old pickup truck.

The extent of his senses is impressive, he can admit - though he can only make such an assumption in comparison to what he has been told about human capabilities. But unlike usually, he can only detect those scents with fierce concentration. Otherwise, his headaches and exhaustion throw them so fully into obscurity that they are nearly imperceptible.

But somehow, he is still distracted by the smell of Lois's shampoo - not vanilla, because she hates it, but something like coconuts - especially with her walking so close to him. Her jacket is wrapped tightly around her - a sort of wall to block out the wind. The goosebumps on her skin seem huge to his eyes, so he immediately places an arm around her to keep her warm. In response, she leans her head upon his shoulder.

"Y'know, I was thinking… when we're done _pretending_ to be taking a vacation to your parents… we should _actually _take one," she suggests.

He scoffs a bit. "Like Perry would actually let us off work."

"I have fallen victim to several situations in which I was forced to stay away from Metropolis that weren't actual vacations," she argues. "Not my fault. I want a real, honest-to-God, beachwear vacation."

"Well, Perry calls a _bathroom break_ a vacation. Good luck convincing him."

"I'm serious, Smallville. I love work as much as the next gal at the top of her field but-" She sighs audibly. "Just think - you. Me. Hawaii."

He pictures it. Sun and sand and lounging around peacefully with Lois, without hardly a care in the world. It sounds perfect to Clark. But to Superman? Well…

"There really aren't 'days off' for me, Lois. Not for Superman, anyway," he says softly. "I mean, maybe someday. Maybe for our honeymoon or-"

He stops himself short as they both freeze, still several feet from the entrance of the barn. Clark's surprise at his own words causes him to drop his arm and move away from Lois, so that he can avoid crossing any more lines than he already has.

_Oh God, _he had to go and do it, didn't he? He had to go and make it awkward. They've never really brought it up - the whole idea of marriage. In fact, he doesn't know if she even plans on getting married. Something tells him that it's not something that she considers very much. She has always lived in the moment, not really caring about the future. And whenever he has dropped subtle hints (about his parents being _traditional_, and things like that) she usually brushes them off, claiming that their lack of "rings" doesn't affect anything.

He is relatively certain that he has made her very, very uncomfortable. Even with his throbbing head and tired mind, he can hear the quickened beats of her heart.

Her expression is stunned. And if this isn't what she wants to discuss right now, then they won't do so. She'll have enough revelations to deal with tonight, besides.

"Let's just... let's go inside," he urges, referring to the barn. "Forget what I said. We'll figure everything out another time."

Lois nods slowly. Then, she allows Clark to lead her inside of the red-painted building that was the setting of so many of his childhood memories.

In one section of the barn, the cows are penned off, lying or standing in the coating of hay that lines the floor. In the other, there are a wide variety of tools and machines used in the farming process. All of it is incredibly familiar to Clark, even if it has changed slightly since the last time he has been here. There are pieces of their old tractor (from _ten years ago_) still in the corner, since his father has never really gotten around to disposing of them. On top of a tool box is the football that Clark used to throw and catch (oftentimes with himself, as a challenge to his speed and strength).

Right now, coming back here, it's almost like he never left Smallville at all. But everything is different isn't it? He's Superman now. A reporter now. It's almost impossible to believe that he spent almost all of his days on this farm, planting crops or caring for animals or even _playing catch_, especially when he spends so much of his time _saving people_ now.

"Cows don't bite, right?" Lois asks suddenly, eyeing the animals suspiciously, interrupting his reminisce.

He smirks. "Sometimes. Only if you trespass on their territory."

"_What_?" she chokes, but Clark immediately chuckles in response.

"I'm kidding. They almost never bite. In fact, you're more likely to be trampled by them."

Lois's expression turns sour. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence here, Smallville."

"Sorry. Trying to keep the situation light," Clark replies, heading toward the area covered with hay. As he does so, he waves his arms exaggeratedly so that the cows will move away from him. With a little luck, they begin to meander away from him, leaving the space clear.

"Wait...are you _trying _to get them to trample me?" Lois demands jokingly as she watches him with interest, even though she backs away from an approaching cow.

"I'm just trying to get them out of my way."

With that, he uses his hand to sweep away the pieces of hay on the floor, revealing a rusted metal handle that is nailed into the wood. There is a frayed string attached to it.

Clark gulps before he grabs hold of it, but eventually, he musters the determination to begin backing up. He could do it quickly with his superspeed, he knows, but in this moment, he'll need to feel more human than ever.

The more he retreats, the more the cellar trapdoor opens, its hinges creaking eerily. Plumes of dust explode out of the expanding gap - a testament to how long it has been since he has looked down there.

It's almost cliche, Clark thinks. He is _literally_ digging up his past… or more accurately, going down to meet it.

Finally, the trap door is flipped over entirely, and slams back onto the floor. He lets go of the string, his hands feeling oddly stiff, before coming around to the front of the trap door. Lois joins him there, staring down into the black hole that is evidently the cellar. Cold and dampness seem to radiate from it. He suspects that Lois can feel it too, even without super-senses.

With a nervous sigh, Clark heads into it first, easily following the rickety staircase downwards. There aren't many steps - the cellar isn't that deep. It's not long until he locates the string of a hanging lightbulb. Upon pulling on it, the cellar is illuminated with weak light.

Now able to see, Lois trots down the stairs and gasps slightly - loud enough for him to hear, anyway. Because before her rests his spaceship - the one that brought him to Earth.

It's pen-shaped, though thicker in width, and made of white and red material that seems to _glow_, even in the dim illumination of the bulb. But despite its shape, there is a unique curvature to it, like it is bent in ways and places that NASA scientists wouldn't dare copy. Maybe to them, to their science, it wouldn't work. Maybe this tiny little vessel should have been destroyed during interplanetary flight. But it's _here_ \- it _brought_ Clark here. And now it sits, miraculously repelling the dust in this musty cellar, looking so clearly alien, otherworldly, and (would he be crazy to say?) a little lonely.

He left it behind a long time ago. One look - that was all he granted it, when his parents told him the truth. He quickly examined the ship. He listened to the video message that spoke in a language he didn't (and still doesn't) understand. Then he never sought a glance at either of them again.

He felt justified in doing so. Whenever he so much as thinks about this… device… he is struck by a heavy emptiness and longing for a past that he never knew… for a people that share his blood and his ancestry… for a world where he is not considered a _freak_.

More than anything, it upsets him. It upsets him _because_ he loves Earth. He loves humanity. He loves his friends and his family. He loves the taste of hot chocolate and dogs and writing stories and planting crops. He doesn't _want_ to feel like he doesn't belong here, and this ship so strongly reminds him of his _literal_ alienation.

"It's beautiful," Lois breathes, her eyes wide as she scrutinizes the ship. "In a sci-fi, sort of way, I mean."

Clark averts his eyes, replying rather bitterly: "No, it's not. I don't think so, anyway."

"What d'you mean?" she asks with surprise. "It's so-"

"There's nothing beautiful about a lifeboat, Lois," he tells her solemnly. "Especially when it's the only one that made it to shore."

"Clark-"

"Besides, it only seems beautiful because it's _different_. 'Different' fascinates people. Or… at least it does until people become afraid of it," he continues with that same resentment.

Lois is silent for a few moments, and between the coldness of the cellar and absolute lack of sound pollution that Smallville provides, Clark feels like he could be floating in outer space right now. He has never really traveled off-Earth (not yet anyway), but he figures it would probably seem a lot like this.

But then Lois confidently resumes speaking.

"Clark, nobody loves you just _because _you're an alien. I certainly don't - and I don't fear you because of it, either. I love you because you're one of the most compassionate and selfless people I've ever met. That's why the city loves you too - Earth has adopted you, just as much as you have adopted Earth. Don't forget that," she reminds him seriously.

They have had conversations like this before. A particular one comes to mind, before they were dating. Before he knew that _she knew_ he was Superman. Even then, she always managed to say the right thing - the exact words to remind him that he is human in the all the ways that count.

Nonetheless, he sighs again. "I know. It's just… I can pretend I'm human all I want, but I look at this thing and…" He chuckles with what may be exasperation - but in reality, it might be self-pity. "God, I came to Earth in a _spaceship_, Lois. Do you know how crazy that is? How does that even work? It's just… I have so many questions…"

"Well, why don't we answer the most pressing one, then?" she suggests. "The mystery of your nightmares. So how do you open this thing?"

"Pretty easily, actually," Clark answers, pressing a button, which causes the side of the ship to detach and flip upwards with a hissing sound.

"Heh. Exactly my point."

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't it obvious, Clark?" she says. "This thing was _meant _to be opened… so your parents _meant_ for you to be adopted. To belong and be raised on Earth."

He can't help smiling a bit at that. "Never really thought about it that way."

Suddenly, a sort of holographic image begins projecting into the air, startling Lois. All it does to Clark, however, is make him feel an inexplicable mixture of sadness and burning curiosity.

The image features two people, dressed in intricate, geometric clothing that would seem odd to people on Earth. There's a woman - tall and graceful with light-colored hair. She is angelic, even, with the vaguely familiar way that she is smiling. To her right is a man with inky black hair and luminescent, piercing blue eyes. Together they carry a baby that shares the man's eye and hair colors.

Clark has little doubt that the child is him, and that these people… are his parents. His biological ones, anyway.

They begin to speak garbled words - words that Clark is _still_ unable to understand.

"Christ," he hears Lois exclaim.

"What?"

"Well…" Lois begins, "Now I know where your good looks come from. You look just like your father."

Clark smirks slightly and scrutinizes the man's face. "Really?"

"Yeah. Spitting image, actually. Except for your smile. That's clearly your mom's."

It is then that the man points to the baby - Clark - and clearly says: "Kal-El."

Then, he gestures to the woman, himself, and the blurred image of the room around him, calling them "Lara… Jor-El… [and] Krypton," respectively.

"So this is how you found out, huh?" Lois asks quietly. "About your name? About your planet?"

"It was all we were able to make out, anyway. And even then...I'm not sure if that's what they meant."

Lois looks stumped as she continues to watch Jor-El and Lara's message. "Then why do you keep speaking 'Kryptonese' in your sleep, I wonder, if you can't understand it?"

"You're speaking Kryptonese in your sleep?" a new voice asks, deep and worried.

Immediately, Lois and Clark spin around, only to find Jonathan Kent standing behind them, at the top of the stairs to the cellar.

"_Pa_?" Clark exclaims. Between his headache, his exhaustion, and his concentration on the message, he never heard him approach. "I thought you were gonna stay in the house."

"I knew something was wrong," his father says. "I told Martha otherwise… like you, I didn't want her to worry… but I know you, son. And the fact that you didn't hear me sneak up on you is the real indication of just how bad things are. Just… why didn't you tell me?"

Lois glances at Clark, obviously unhappy that their deception has been discovered, especially since she was so against it in the first place. "Mr. Kent… Clark has been having these nightmares. They're probably harmless, but we just wanted to make sure-"

"They're not harmless," Jonathan informs them simply, his voice grave. "I know what you're talking about."

Clark squints, stunned. "You… you _do_?"

Jonathan closes his eyes, as if he is remembering something painful. "Let's go up to the house, Clark. You're not the only one caught in a lie tonight."

* * *

They are sitting at the table again, but this time, the atmosphere is palpably strained. Lois feels like she is intruding on something private - a family argument, perhaps. But the Kents make no indication that she should leave, and if this matter is as serious as Jonathan implied… then Clark may _need_ her here.

Martha looks like she has just woken up. She is clothed in her pajamas, and her hair is wildly tangled - the effects of bed head, most likely. It worries Lois that Jonathan thought it was necessary to wake Martha up like this. Just how serious is Clark's "condition?" And what do the Kents know about it that Clark doesn't?

"You have to understand," Martha begins, speaking to Clark, "that everything we did for you, every secret we kept, was out of love. We've always wanted you to be safe. We still do."

Martha grasps for Jonathan's hand. Their fingers intertwine over the table. Obviously, whatever truth they are about to reveal… may be enough to rock and crack this family down to its foundation. Thus, a part of Lois isn't sure that she _wants_ to hear this revelation anymore - for Clark's sake, as well as his parents'.

Clark looks equally reluctant, his expression pained and apprehensive.

But truth is always best. That… Lois knows quite well.

"You were about three years old when it started," Martha recalls. As she continues, a slight, sad smile twists her mouth. "We had just switched out your crib for a toddler bed… and you were the cutest thing in it too. Every night you would ask to be read a story, and you'd snuggle into those firefighter-themed sheets until you feel asleep."

Lois suppresses a chuckle; she can only imagine how cute Clark was as a toddler. But right now, it feels like Martha is stalling.

As expected, Martha's smile rapidly fades. "I had just put you to bed when...you came back out again. Naturally, I tried to scold you for being up past your bedtime but something… something wasn't right. Your eyes were… well, they were _glowing_ this insane blue. And then you were mumbling gibberish under your breath. I couldn't make sense of it for the life of me."

Lois sees Clark tense next to her, and his lips part in incredulity. This is most definitely _not _a story that he has heard before - even if it is familiar.

"A few moments later, you were walking past me, heading out of the house like someone possessed. I had no idea what was happening, and I was afraid, so I called Jonathan. Even then, you were _so_ strong, and we struggled to hold you back. Luckily, after a while, you woke up and came to your senses. But you were so upset - you said you had dreams about how you were 'trapped in darkness' or something of the like."

Lois and Clark glance at each other - both recognizing how familiar the recollection sounds, even though they have never heard it before.

Jonathan looks grieved as he says: "I wish that was the end of the story, but it's not. Every night after that, you'd do the same thing - sleep-walk, talking gibberish with your eyes glowing blue. Martha kept saying that the words you said sounded familiar - like something out of that video message we heard all those years ago. So after a month or so of the sleep-walking, I finally went to the cellar to look at that damned ship."

"It turns out," Martha continues for him, "that there was something else in the ship. Something we missed. I'm still not exactly sure what it was - it was crystalline, maybe. And at night, it would _glow_ blue, just like your eyes. We worried that it was doing things to you, Clark. Bad things. So Jonathan and I… we buried it."

"Buried it?" Clark exclaims angrily. "Maybe there was a _reason_ it was calling to me. Did you ever consider that?"

Jonathan hardly reacts. "You were a child, Clark. We couldn't let you near it. You were too young to understand what you were."

"And we're not saying that it wasn't wrong," Martha interjects. "We should have told you before now. But… you're _our_ son. And this thing, whatever it was… it made us feel like we were losing you."

Clark's anger does not seem to relent. Each word he says is terse and deliberate.

"What do you mean…'_buried it_?'"

"We tried to cover it in loads of things. Boxes of all sorts. But none of them worked - at least until we found this old thing in the attic. It was a toolbox - heaviest and thickest thing I've ever seen. We placed the crystal inside, and that night, you slept soundly. A few days later, we buried it in the hopes that it would never bother you again."

Clark's voice still sounds oddly cold. "_Where_?"

Lois has never seen Jonathan look so distressed - seeing his son so angry at him must be breaking his heart. "Miller's Field. Where… where you landed."

Clark stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the kitchen tiles. The anger that has consumed his features transforms into something _hurt_ and _devastated._ Something betrayed.

"You had no right," he declares, "to keep this from me. None at all."

"We've _always _kept secrets for you, Clark," Jonathan counters. "Being who you are, it's necessary."

"This is different! This isn't a matter of privacy - it's not a secret _for_ me. This is a secret _about_ me… kept from _me_! All the times I've wondered about my origins - the answer was right there, buried under Miller's Field the whole time. And _you_ _knew_!"

The kitchen is silent for a few moments. The Kents clearly don't know what to say. And Lois somewhat understands them - their actions truly were out of love for Clark. Out of a desire to keep him exactly the way he is - so human and kind and respectful.

But a nature can only be suppressed for so long. And Clark, no matter how he acts or seems, is not human. So now his alien roots are drawing him back with a vengeance.

Thus, Clark storms briskly and silently out of the room, heading back outside. The screen door closes with a clatter - perhaps the loudest one Lois has ever heard. Now, she has been left alone with the Kents, who look absolutely despondent.

Feeling obligated to say something, Lois tells them, "He'll forgive you. You know that he will. It'll just take a little time."

"How can you be sure?" Martha asks worriedly.

It's clear that the Kents have never had a blowout fight with their son. In fact, it's almost laughable to Lois - how perfect their family is, or perhaps _was_. She has thought it once and she will think it again: they might as well be the stars of _Little House on the Prairie_, with this idyllic lifestyle.

Lois, meanwhile, was almost disowned on a daily basis, even though Sam Lane rarely ever came home. He never gave her more than an hour's attention throughout each day of her childhood - and that hour was devoted to the self-defense courses meant to compensate for her female gender. Her father always made it quite clear that he wanted a _boy_ for his firstborn, so there was not a day in Lois's life when she felt _good enough_.

Plus, he _never_ listens to her, or encourages to follow her dreams. Not to mention that he tried to marry her off to Lex for the sake of a weapons discount for the U.S. military. Indeed, to this day, Lois is _still _not on speaking terms with her father.

The Kents, no matter their faults, have never made Clark feel unloved. Or unworthy. So she is confident that this argument will not last.

"You had his best interests at heart. There are far worse things that you could have done," she assures them as she mentally marks their significant differences from Sam Lane. "As long as you learn from your mistakes… he'll forgive you."

With that, Lois gets up and follows Clark outside, hoping that he has not flown away in his rage.

Surprisingly, Lois finds him sitting serenely on the porch steps, leaning out toward the fields with his chin leaning on his knuckles. At his side is Shelby, lying outstretched and whining slightly, as if she can sense her owner's despair. Occasionally, Clark will reach out and pet her, only to return to his previous pensive position.

Lois does not hesitate to sit beside him, and is soon placing her arms around his shoulders. He does not protest in the least. In fact, he seems to lean into her.

"After seeing you so angry… I was honestly afraid that you took off," she remarks softly.

"Not without you," he murmurs back. "Never without you."

In the seconds that Lois tries to formulate something else to say, they descend into quietude. And in Smallville, right now, silence is absolute. There is no traffic. No insects chirping. Even the wind has died down. There are only the mute, twinkling stars and the dolefully glowing moon.

"I shouldn't have talked to them like that," Clark whispers suddenly, already regretful of recent events. "It's just... how am _I _supposed to come to terms with what I am when my own parents can't?"

"They have, Clark. They've always supported you. You've gotta remember - this is something that they did when you were a toddler. Chances are, they buried this 'crystal' and forgot about it years ago. It's only now, when history is repeating itself, that they've been reminded of it."

He sighs before saying: "You're probably right."

She smiles encouragingly at him and pulls him even closer. "I'm always right. You should know that by now."

His own smirk is a little weak, but it is there all the same. "I'm a very lucky guy, then, to know someone who gives such good advice.

"Well… you're not _wrong_."

"It's more than that, though," he continues more seriously. "You know, being who I _am_… it gets really hard to feel honest, especially when I spend so much time hiding things. From everyone. And to meet someone like you… someone who believes _so much_ in the truth-"

"Not just the truth," she interrupts. "I believe in you too. Always will."

Clark's expression is so earnest, so grateful for her words, that it nearly overwhelms her. Then, he is arching his head downwards so that his lips can meet hers. His hand cups her cheek, and she can hear and feel a relieved sigh escaping his mouth. Meanwhile, Lois's heart speeds up in that way it _always_ does when he's kissing her - like a jackhammer on its highest setting.

And for a moment, she seems to forget all their problems. Right now there is only him and her and the stars and the moon.

And maybe Shelby too.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR DC-RELATED**

**A/N: I know this is posted later than usual. I forgot to post at midnight because I fell asleep, and then I was busy this morning. **

**I'm so glad so many of you have voiced praise for Clark's POV. I was pretty nervous to write as him, to be honest, because I relate to Lois so much more. Clark's far too good of a person compared to me, and finding ways to relate to him was a little tough. (I'm gonna describe a bit of my process of how I developed the character, since that seems to be what people love the most about the story. Sorry if it's long). **

**So basically, my first challenge was distinguishing Clark's POV from Lois's. Clark is way more introspective and philosophical than she is. He dwells almost excessively on the past, on the future, on should-be's and shouldn't-be's. He is almost fixated on hypothetical situations and the doubts that correspond with them. In fact, Clark's fixation on hypotheticals is actually an important part of this series, because it will cause him a lot of conflicts. These qualities are compounded by his ironic lack of (metaphorical) thick skin. Even though he may be bulletproof, he tends to take criticism as evidence of real faults. **

**You may also notice that he thinks about his emotions a lot more than Lois does - he feels things very fully, and fears that people do not care about _everything_ with the same intensity that he does. Unlike him, however, Lois shows her emotions outwardly. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and has two settings: passionate (whether that means passionately angry or loving or excited) or sarcastic. There is nothing in between. Clark is very "gentle" with his emotions, meaning that they tend to overwhelm him internally, but they show up as small displays on the outside. **

**Lois, meanwhile, spends most of her time living in the now, describing current actions and situations with occasional, brief mentions of her past. Whenever she briefly experiences doubts, she pushes them aside just as quickly. Interestingly, her greatest flaw is denial, not doubt - she refuses to take certain potential outcomes into account if they don't seem realistic to her, and that gets her into trouble (it's why she runs headlong into danger, and why she initially talked herself into believing that Clark wasn't Superman). This also means that if she's afraid that something isn't going her way, she'll just ignore the problem (whereas Clark is likely to internally catastrophize or become frantic). **

**Lois's POV is also rife with sarcasm, which is something that Clark's POV occasionally has, though his sarcasm is more self-deprecating. Lois doesn't self-deprecate all that much. She doesn't let criticism get to her - in fact, it challenges her. She only _really_ cares about the opinions of those she admires, and unfortunately, she's not apt to admire people all that often (with the exception of Clark, Perry, the Kents, Jimmy, and once, Professor Hamilton). She has a similar attitude to me, actually - the "I hate people, but I believe in them" mentality. Which means that we believe that though humans are incredibly flawed, their good traits outweigh their bad ones. Clark, on the other hand, sees the flaws as minor annoyances that fail to even taint humanity's beauty, which is why he is so self-conscious about his non-humanity. **

**I know that's a lot of info, but I thought people might be interested in my writing process. Anyway, Please review!**


	41. Chapter Seven - Excavation

_CHAPTER SEVEN - EXCAVATION_

They stay outside for a long time, but after awhile, Lois's head slumps forward as she falls asleep. Clark is tempted to remain in place, enjoying these peaceful moments with her, but then she begins to shiver. To protect her from the cold, he scoops her into his arms and heads inside.

The kitchen is empty, thankfully, so he will not have to face his parents just yet. He thinks that it will be a day or so before he can speak with them again. And he will. He _will_ speak with them again, for sure. But right now he is hurt - he feels betrayed, and he fears what he might say before his anger fully dies down.

He can understand their disinclination to tell him about the crystal when he was a child. But he can't help feeling like they deliberately kept information from him later on - when he _was_ mature enough to handle it. To him, this is not a matter of lacking trust, or a matter of maintaining his secret identity. This is a matter of his parents cutting him off from his past. And while that may ultimately be a noble thing to do - seeing as, for all he knows, Krypton could have been a horrible place - he should have a right to _try_ to learn about it.

The ridiculous thing is that he remembers the nightmares from all those years ago… so they _could have_ told him about them, if they really wanted to. All that the dreams were missing in Clark's memory were their context.

He supposes that the real problem is this: his parents want him to be _just_ Clark Kent. In fact...a part of Clark even wants to be _just _Clark Kent. But he's not. He's Kal-El. He's _Superman_. And they're all going to have to come to terms with those sides of him, no matter how difficult doing so may be.

As Clark carries Lois up the stairs to the guest bedroom, he can't help thinking about how easily it all came to her. Even during their first interview on that rooftop.

"_From what I understand, I'm from another planet_," he told her very nervously that night. At the time, he was trying to ignore the gravity of what he was saying - trying to ignore that he was revealing _alien life_ to the press, of all groups. "_I landed here when I was a child, sent from a place that I know very little about_."

And then, after barely a beat of consideration, Lois replied ever-so-calmly and nonchalantly: "_Okay, fine. What planet?_"

He had _literally_ just told her that he was from another planet, and her response was only a simple _Okay, fine? _Who… who _does_ that? Most people would run away screaming. Even Lana had been startled when he told her the source of his powers - she wouldn't talk to him for a day or so afterwards. Clark even wanted to run away from _himself _when he found out that he was an alien.

But Lois… Lois was even comfortable enough to inquire which planet he hailed from, as if she was asking something as _mundane_ as his street address.

He suppresses a chuckle at the thought, knowing that the sound would probably wake Lois from her sleep.

Thus, he gently lays Lois on her bed, carefully tucking her under the covers. It's not the first time he has done something like this - she falls asleep meeting her deadlines quite often, so this is even a regular occurrence to him.

She's very beautiful when she sleeps, Clark remarks internally. Of course, to him, she's beautiful _always_, but she's incredibly lovely when she looks like this.

While awake, she's all _mischievousness, intelligence_ and _confidence_. There's a certain degree of effort that goes into the maintenance of those traits, he knows, and he loves those parts of her just as much. But while she is asleep, it is still interesting to see her wiped clean of those things - to see nothing but the very core of who she is. To see her when she is parted full lips and messy hair and soft skin and relaxed posture and mumbled dreams.

Asleep… she looks like _home._ Maybe that's an inexplicable description - one that he couldn't explain if he tried. But it's true. One look at her, like this, and Clark feels like _this is it. This is where you stay. _

A part of him considers lying down next to her, but he figures that there's enough bad blood between him and his parents, at the moment. He shouldn't exacerbate the situation.

Besides, in the event of another one of his _episodes_, he should let her rest.

So instead of lying down, he brushes some hair out of her face and leans forward. His lips press against the spot between her eyes, and she hums slightly in her sleep, her eyes squinting open slightly.

"I love you so much, Lois," Clark whispers against the top of her head. "I hope you know that."

"Hmm… You too …" Lois murmurs groggily as her eyes slide shut - the exhaustion must be more than her body can handle anymore. "G'night..."

With one last look at her, he leaves the bedroom.

Clark refuses to sleep right now - he knows that the nightmares are still waiting at the edges of his consciousness. So he changes into his Superman uniform and takes to the skies, planning to find the crystal overnight and put a stop to its mental tortures.

When he arrives there, he is stunned at what he finds.

Miller's Field, and many of the surrounding farms, are now cordoned off with large, barbed wire fences lined with black plastic to block outside viewing. Along the borders of the region are signs, which all proclaim: "PRIVATE PROPERTY. DO NOT ENTER. VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED."

Curiosity causes Clark to keep flying over it, so that he can get a better look at this change of landscape. Soon, he sees the large variety of bulldozers, drills, and other excavation tools that are scattered every few feet. All of them seem to be recently used - some of them are _still_ in use, even at night, since their workstations are illuminated by large floodlights.

A sort of tent has been erected in the center of the property, and using his x-ray vision, Clark can see inside of it.

There seems to be a ton of soil samples, and accompanying equipment - sifters and microscopes and other devices. People who appear to be scientists are hard at work, examining the soil and sorting their findings.

He wonders why they are in Smallville, of all places.

He is more worried by the fact that they appear to have been digging - digging in the exact spot where this crystal is supposed to buried. It is entirely possible that they unearthed and discarded it _weeks ago_, without knowing its true worth. And with all these people here, how is he supposed to discreetly retrieve what he is searching for, even if it is miraculously still here?

Now, it's entirely possible that Clark may never find the answers he is looking for.

From the sky, he continues to watch the scientists work for a while, attempting to formulate a new plan or discern where they might have put an old, buried toolbox. It is a few moments later that he hears something concerning - something that chills him to the bone.

A workman pushes a cart of soil into the tent, saying rather loudly, "Lookie here, everyone! Section P-43 had a ton of green, deep in the soil. Should make the boss happy."

A female scientist walks up to him and scrutinizes the contents of the cart. And inside _is_ something green - something glowing and crystalline with a composition unlike anything found on Earth.

The cart's soil contains Kryptonite. And lots of it.

"Good work, Donny. Though I doubt _anything_ makes the boss happy, so I wouldn't get your hopes up," the woman replies approvingly, gesturing for him to follow her. "Especially since most of these rocks were carted off years ago."

Clark can only think of two people who would be harvesting Kryptonite. One is in jail, thanks to Lois's intervention on the S.S. Lemaris and her subsequent testimony in court (he still can't believe they accused her of vigilantism, even if the charges were eventually dropped). The other runs a multi-billion dollar weapons corporation, and has a personal vendetta against Clark for a variety of reasons including but not limited to Clark's attempts to put Lex behind bars, and Clark's relationship with Lois.

The situation below is not much of a mystery to Clark anymore. Even though he and Lois were so convinced that Lex was _not_ acting on the knowledge of Clark's identity, this is clear proof otherwise. Lex has been trying to accumulate Kryptonite by excavating the area where Clark landed as a baby.

He can only imagine how Lex plans to use the rocks against him.

And he can only worry about what Lex could do with that crystal, if he has found that too. It's certainly very unsettling that, even with his x-ray vision, he cannot find that toolbox buried in the soil.

* * *

"You know, I _should_ be surprised," Lois grumbles upon hearing Clark's story as she boots up the Kents' prehistoric desktop computer. "But I'm not. This is _totally_ something Lex would do. In fact, I'm angry at _myself_ for not suspecting this in the first place."

Clark doesn't respond with anything but pensive silence. A few seconds later, however, he leans down toward the aging monitor, where Lois is trying to research the new proprietor of the land that once was Miller's Field. Her fingers clack rapidly against the keyboard.

The dinosaur of a computer manages to pull up the required documents, and when it does so, Lois chuckles bitterly.

The Lexcorp logo is clearly printed on the legal papers that she just found online - the ones that gave Lex jurisdiction over a good chunk of Smallville.

"It's like he's not even _bothering_ to hide," she observes with irritation, glancing at Clark to discern his reaction.

"Why would he?" Clark says in a voice marked by worry. "I can't do anything about it. He bought all the land legally, so by his rights, everything in its soil belongs to him. Besides, he knows who I am. I'm helpless to stop him - unless I want my identity made public..."

Lois shakes her head, refusing to believe that the situation is hopeless. "He knows you won't let him cross any lines. If it came to something serious, something that endangered lives-"

"I _would_ stop him, regardless of what he would do to me. Which means that he's planning on doing something dangerous, and wants to make sure that I can't and won't interfere."

"I'd say so," Lois replies unhappily. "I mean, I wasn't lying when I said his illicit activities - the gun sales - have essentially stopped. Like you, I'm too skeptical to assume that he's changed his ways. Whatever he's going to do, it's so big that he's devoting all of his attention to it."

"So what should we do?" Clark asks. "It seems like my hands are tied until he makes a move."

"Well, obviously we're going to confront him," Lois asserts confidently.

"Are you _kidding_? He has kryptonite, Lois, which means that he fully intends to attack me, if given the opportunity."

"We just have to approach this right. We'll go together-"

"No way. I don't want him hurting you."

_Here we go, _she thinks, sighing as she does so. Out loud, she tells him, "He's not going to hurt me. He's in love with me."

The mention of this fact makes Clark visibly uncomfortable; his features become drawn, and his brow becomes furrowed.

The idea of Lex having feelings for Lois is certainly a tricky subject, she knows. On the one hand, it increases the hostility between Superman and Lex Luthor, and complicates her relationship with Clark. On the other hand, it also provides Lois and Clark a degree of protection from the crueler aspects of Lex's personality. Lex can't hurt Clark without making Lois absolutely hate Lex, and Lex can't hurt Lois without losing her.

In an almost careful voice, Clark wonders, "How do you know he hasn't changed his mind? Or whether this 'plan' of his is more important to him than you are?"

"If killing _you_ was more important to him than I am," Lois says stoically, "then he would have left you with Emil."

They are silent for a few moments as they consider that horrible possibility. Lois can tell that it's always difficult for Clark to accept the fact that Lex _did_ save his life in all the ways that matter. Sure, that realization makes their skin crawl to no end, but the reluctance with which they are ready to believe it makes it no less true.

And if Lex was willing to do that for Lois, he might also be willing to listen to their warnings about the alien forces that he possesses and doesn't understand.

Emphasis on _might_. Lex also seems like the kind of person who enjoys messing with forces he doesn't understand.

"Listen, you'll need me there to even have a _chance_ of him listening to you. I may be able to convince him to admit to having the crystal, at least."

"He'll never give it to us, though."

"Maybe not. But you can't go on like this, Clark. Even with your superpowers, you need sleep, and I think you're pushing your limits right now. We have to _try_."

There are a few moments of silence before he quietly and begrudging concedes to her course of action.

"It might be smarter for us to go as Lois Lane and Clark Kent, not Lois Lane and Superman," she suggests. "That way, even if he does become dangerous, we'll be protected by all the people at the Planet who'll know our whereabouts."

"And what makes you think he'll see us at all?"

Lois smirks and pulls out her phone. She dials a number quickly, then presses it to her ear with a wink in Clark's direction.

When someone picks up cheerfully on the other end, she speaks in an equally chipper voice.

"Is this the Lexcorp PR department? Hi, this is Lois Lane, from the Daily Planet. I was just wondering whether Mr. Luthor would like to give a statement on the dangerous, radioactive elements that he has been harvesting in the American Heartland. Y'know, _before_ I print my scathing expose. Oh, I'm sorry, did you just drop the phone? That's alright. Yes, I'll hold as you call him."

Smiling, Clark pecks her on the cheek. "_You're the best_," he mouths to her silently.

"_I know_," she mouths back, but then her attention is back on the flustered secretary on the other line.

* * *

Just as Lois and Clark head toward the door, intending to travel back to Metropolis, they find Jonathan and Martha standing stiffly in their way. The expressions on their faces as they look at Clark are heartbreaking, even to Lois. They look so remorseful - so utterly guilty and regretful of what they have done - that Lois doubts that she would have the will to stay angry at them, if she were in Clark's position.

A look at Clark reveals that she is not alone in this sentiment. There is no coldness, no blame, contained in those vivid blue eyes of his. Only a bit of resignation, mixed with exhaustion and something that is quite indicative of affection for his parents.

"We're so sorry, Clark," Jonathan apologizes. "If we could go back in time-"

"I know," Clark interrupts softly. "I know, Pa. I forgive you both."

"You're not angry anymore?" Martha questions.

Clark sighs slightly, in that way he always does before he says something that is difficult to articulate. "I'm still a bit angry - I won't lie. But you guys mean the world the world to me. Just… let's not keep secrets from each other anymore. Deal?"

Martha looks like she is on the verge of relieved tears when she replies: "Deal."

Then, she approaches Clark and throws her arms around him. He returns the hug very tightly, like he too is thankful that they are moving past their problems. Jonathan Kent is next in line for an embrace, which they readily engage in.

"You'll sort the whole thing out," Jonathan says. "I know you will."

Clark's expression is suddenly concerned. "Are you absolutely positive that you buried that toolbox in Miller's Field?"

As Clark and Jonathan discuss that topic, Martha comes to stand by Lois.

"I'm glad he told you the truth," Martha says offhandedly but seriously, her voice hushed. "He's not just Clark anymore. He's more. He's this Superman figure, and he needs someone who can see him as both. I just hope all this craziness isn't scaring you away."

Lois is speechless for a few moments, unsure of how to react to this… blessing? Is that what this is? A blessing from Clark's mother? Or is it a warning - an inquiry into just how loyal she is?

Finally, Lois says rather earnestly, "Mrs. Kent… I love your son. I really do. And I'm willing to stick with him, no matter how crazy things get."

She sees Clark glance at her from the corner of his eye, his expression softening into something remarkably grateful, before his attention returns back to his father's account of how all that land got sold to Lexcorp. He probably heard what was said.

Martha places a hand on Lois's shoulder. "I know. I can see that. And I know how he feels about you. Just… if you can… keep him safe and sound."

"I'll do my best. Clark is almost invulnerable, after all."

Martha's face grows a bit grave as she says: "There's more to safety than being physically alright, Lois."

Understanding her meaning, Lois nods with determination. "In that case… for him? For him, I'll always try."

Then Martha is hugging her with the sort of intimacy that Lois always finds unexpected. As someone who has gone years without a mother or a proper father figure, she can't help the way she stiffens in her reception of the embrace. She only hopes that Martha isn't offended - this is the second time Lois has unconsciously reacted this way.

Lois has never really been the kind of person who readily gives hugs - she's not very touchy-feely. Yes, she used to date frequently, and she isn't exactly shy in bed, but she's never exactly felt comfortable in other people's arms, so she is never inclined to return the favor.

Clark is really the only person who elicits affectionate gestures from her, but even then, that's different. There's nothing awkward or forced about when she and Clark touch in a loving way - just pleasure and warmth in knowing that they are by each other's side.

But apparently the rest of Kents are big on hugs too. Of course. Because this family couldn't get any more sitcom-level perfect, leaving Lois in the dysfunctional, "unaccustomed-to-affection" dust.

But then again… they _do_ have the not-so-perfect problems that follow the adoption of an alien child.

As the hug continues, Martha remarks: "See? I told you you'd be back here soon."

Lois can't help but laugh a little. "That you did."

The hug finally breaks apart, and Lois heads over the door, where Clark is now waiting for her.

"Goodbye, now," Lois says, and she opens the screen door that leads to the porch. Clark, however, seems to hesitate, as if he is contemplating something serious.

Curious, Lois inquires, "You coming, Smallville?"

Looking at his parents, Clark begins to speak in a nervous but resolute voice. "I don't...I don't want to be hypocritical. And now that we've promised not to lie to each other, it feels like it'd be wrong not to tell you guys."

Jonathan looks uneasy. "Tell us what?"

Lois's eyes widen, and her own voice quickly becomes apprehensive. "Oh, no."

But Clark continues anyway.

"Lois and I are living together," he declares firmly. "We have been for a while."

Martha and Jonathan look relatively stunned, but not exactly outraged. Lois is glad that their reactions are so limited, because she certainly does not want to be the subject of their disapproval. She already gets enough of that from her own father.

"_Already_?" Jonathan sputters.

Lois tugs on Clark's arm. "Okay, now that we dropped that _totally unnecessary _bombshell, we should probably get going."

Unfortunately, he doesn't budge.

"Yes," Clark confirms. "And we're uh… we're sleeping together."

Stunned silence fills the entire room, quickening Lois's heartbeat and filling her cheeks with an embarrassed blush.

Meanwhile, Martha blinks disbelievingly, and Jonathan appears to have been just slapped across the face.

_No, Clark!_ Lois screams internally. She literally presses her lips closed to suppress the frustrated yell that threatens to escape her mouth. _Too far. _

The quietude is so heavy and awkward that Lois could swear that it is bursting her ears. She's sure that they're going to blame her for corrupting their son somehow. Clark is so innocent - they'd never blame _him_.

_Oh God_, if someone made a list of ways to piss off your boyfriend's family, this would be method number one. They'll probably never let her into the house again. _Christ_, they'll probably even train Shelby to attack her.

In a slightly hoarse voice, Lois breaks the silence by offering, "We're... we're gonna leave now…"

This time, when she tugs Clark's arm, he moves with her, and they exit the house. The Kents are left dumbfounded in their wake.

* * *

That night, after they have returned to Metropolis, Lois walks into their apartment's bedroom to find Clark changing into his Superman costume.

"I _still_ can't believe you told them," Lois moans, her hand covering part of her face, as if she is reliving the moment's embarrassment once more. "Smallville, there are certain things that you just _don't_ say to your parents."

"How am I supposed to expect them to be honest with me, if I'm not honest with them?" Clark says as he adjusts the red cape hanging over his shoulders. Despite his words, however, the color of his cheeks appears to match that of his cape. He's regretting it a bit, and it shows.

Lois rolls her eyes and decides to hit the point home. "Clark...it's _implied_ that when couples live together-"

"Alright, well, next time I'll leave that tidbit out," he replies with a playful smirk, which is slightly affected by the tiredness in his features. Of course, it does not affect his meaning. She knows that there is no point in arguing about this now. The damage has been done, and she doubts that they will ever live this down, whether the Kents are okay with this level of their relationship, or not.

Clark glances at the window, then longingly back at her. "I can't go to sleep, Lois. I want to but-"

Lois steps toward him. "I know. The nightmares."

"If all goes well tomorrow, then this will hopefully stop being a problem. But for now...I might as well use my night for something productive. The city could use me right now."

Lois nods with understanding, but his expression remains apologetic. It's not hard to figure what he is thinking - that no _normal_ couples have to go through this sort of thing, that he should be there for her throughout the night, and that he's letting her down somehow.

If only he knew just how little she cares about those things. So what if this isn't _normal_? 'Normal' has let her down time and time again - he has yet to do so. What happiness is to be found in _normal_? None.

Lois stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, and his arms encircle her back, pulling her closer to him. As he leans backwards to deepen the kiss, eyes tightly closed, he literally pulls her off of her feet. It's the small seconds, Lois thinks - the ones like this - that make every difficult moment, every sleepless night and dangerous situation, so completely worth it.

And then he is leaning forward again, depositing her back on the carpet. He leaves a few more kisses on her lips before fully pulling away. Something in his eyes is so reluctant now as he glances between her and the window. Lois can see his changing heart, so she pushes him lightly toward those white curtains, trying to encourage him to do what is necessary. To be Superman.

Eventually, he staggers to the window and throws it open, a faint draft of icy air sneaking its way into the room. He turns back to her and says: "Leave the latch unlocked, please. I may not be back till morning."

"Oh I see. My boyfriend - who has been named the sexiest man alive, mind you - plans to spend the night without me in a variety of ambiguous locations. Because that's _not_ suspicious at all," Lois jokes with a raised eyebrow.

"Lois, please," he replies with a pointed eye roll. "I have a car chase to stop. Just don't lock me out."

"Fine. Just _go_!" She smiles and gestures a shooing motion.

"Fine!" he calls back as he slips out the window. "Night! I love you!"

She runs to the window to watch him fly off, hissing (because she knows he can hear), "Quiet down, will ya? What if someone heard Superman saying something like that?!"

Even as he glides away, she can hear him laughing. She wonders if he hears her whisper _I love you too_.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING DC COMICS OR SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: I'm so behind on writing! I need to finish this book, and then move on to the third one. But I'm so short on time...erghhhh**

**Also, I'm a self-promoting nerd, so if you want to follow me on tumblr, my new url is _action-comics_ (is that a great url or what?). Just search action comics and you'll find it. It's a comics/superhero/entertainment blog with emphasis on Superman. I spend a lot of time talking about the character, his supporting cast, and comics in general. **

**Alrighty, that's all for now! Please review!**


	42. Chapter Eight - Anchor

_CHAPTER EIGHT - ANCHOR_

With heavy eyelids that seem to fight him with every passing moment, Clark proceeds to patrol the city. He considers himself lucky that no major disasters are occurring in other countries, because he doesn't think he has the coordination to travel beyond the city borders. His head is spinning, and there's still that odd ringing in his ear - persistent and grating - that fosters a headache that just does not go away.

Flying proves to be difficult. The normal way by which he navigates the winds is lost on him, and without proper concentration, he finds himself repeatedly approaching the ground against his volition - sometimes at dangerously fast speeds.

He tries to focus on events that will sharpen his focus - events that might cause him anger or protectiveness. There is a robbery in St. Martin's Island that he easily stops. A car chase. A shootout. All over in the blink of an eye. Even with his exhaustion, he still manages to accomplish these important tasks. Something instinctive prioritizes the safety of those around him above his own health.

Or perhaps it is not something instinctive at all. Maybe it is something more for the world and the people that have adopted him wholeheartedly.

Thus, all the problems are dealt with quickly and efficiently. He simply passes by, grabs the offending party, and leaves them with the nearest police officer for due process. The crime scenes are left untouched for investigation. The criminals are left unharmed. It's certainly not the most effective method - most of the criminals end up back on the streets in no time. But when they decide to commit a felony again, or attempt to hurt someone, Superman will be there to catch them. It's his hope that after enough failures in these illegal endeavors, those whom he catches will learn to _stop_.

Clark is certainly disinclined to hurt anyone, or anything. His unique perspective, given to him by his senses, makes him unable to do so. He can see the explosions of nerves firing in response to pain; the way that a scream tears through vocal chords; the fading of energy from the body after death. The latter is the worst. Sometimes it's like a candle that gradually flickers out, and other times it's like a flame that is abruptly and rudely extinguished, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake.

Indeed, there is nothing more disturbing for Clark to see than death. It's like watching artwork being stripped of its paints, leaving nothing but empty, blank canvas.

The thought of these things pumps fear into his veins as he stops a mugging in New Troy. Afterwards, he offers to fly the victim, an elderly woman, home afterwards. She thanks him earnestly, and he can't help feeling embarrassed as he leaves her on her doorstep.

This idea that he's doing something extraordinary, just by helping someone _get home_, is lost on him. Is it really so unfathomable to other people? That this is not some sort of incredible feat, or incredible kindness? To him this just...is. This is just the way he lives, and wants to live.

When your planet dies, there is a certain degree of _nonexistence_ to your life, Clark believes. If it was not for a small spaceship, he would be dead. If it was not for quick thinking on both his biological and adoptive parents' parts, he would not even have a home in America. Despite how close he has come to _not existing,_ he has been blessed with so much unbelievable luck and kindness in his life - the kind that makes him inexpressibly thankful. There is no more significant action, he thinks, than making that same sort of impact on other people's lives.

Why is that so hard to articulate, or to understand? Is it just that he feels other people's emotions so viscerally that he has to fully respond to them? Or is he excessively motivated by gratitude to everything and everyone that humanity is? Both are possible, he supposes.

He is passing over a nondescript neighborhood when he hears someone speaking frantically. A glance at a particular house reveals a woman on her front porch, crying as she relays a story to a distressed sort of police officer.

"Please," she says, "Lily - my daughter - she was in her room, and...I think she climbed down the fire escape. My husband's already out looking for her, but - but you have to send search parties or do ….do something!"

The police officer speaks in a conciliatory voice about _getting right on that_, but Clark will not hear any more. He rapidly scans the house with his vision, easily finding a picture frame on the fireplace that features the little girl in question. For a second, his exhaustion seems to fight him, unfocusing his eyes and making it difficult to see. But this is _too_ important. So he rubs his eyes and looks more intensely, burning the image of the little girl in his mind.

He proceeds to fly about the nearby area, scanning every block for her. Finally, he spots her sitting on a park bench, with tears streaming down her face.

Clark slowly touches down next to her, his movements silent. For fear of scaring her with his sudden presence, he asks cautiously: "Excuse me, Miss? Are you Lily?"

She looks up at him and gasps, her hand coming to cover her mouth in shock. In response, Clark holds up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. He hopes that this will not end with her screaming and pointing that _It's Superman! _over and over. Even from here, Clark can hear the yells of her worried mother, and any time they spend on childish behavior is time wasted.

"You...you're lookin' for me?" Lily wonders, her wide eyes staring at him in amazement.

Clark nods. It's strange, how people react to him. He wonders how differently they would act if they knew that despite being an alien, he is also a Kansas farmboy, and a mundane reporter. Would they no longer regard him as something otherworldly? Or would they claim those parts of him are nothing but facade, even if they define him just as much as the S on his chest?

"Yes, Miss. I'm here to bring you back to your mother. She's very worried, you see," Clark explains softly, coming to sit beside the little girl on the park bench. He smiles encouragingly.

Lily pouts petulantly. "I don't wanna go back. Mommy and Daddy fight too much. It keeps me from sleepin', and it makes me _sad_."

As she sniffles and wipes her eyes, Clark nods with understanding, realizing why the girl was so inclined to run away.

"Do you know what they were arguing about?"

"Anything. _Everything_. Stupid things."

"Arguments are often like that," Clark tells her gently. "But from what I saw, your father and mother are working hard to find you. No matter how much they fight, I'm positive that they are united in their love for you."

"Wuh does 'united' mean?"

"It means that they're standing together."

"But they're fightin'."

"Maybe sometimes. But when something important comes up, they're willing to work side by side. Like now, when they're trying to find you."

The girl looks at him quizzically. "I don' believe you. If they cared, they'd stop bein this way. I mean...do _your_ Mommy and Daddy ever fight, Supahman?"

He smiles slightly. "My Mommy and Daddy, despite what I am, adopted me and loved me just as much as your parents love you right now. They don't fight very often, but when they do, they always work out their problems. We all do. As a family."

She sighs. "I don't think my Mommy and Daddy want to be a family anymore."

"Maybe they don't want to be _in love_ anymore, and that happens. But they still want to be your parents, and still want to love you, and to take care of you."

The girl sniffles and starts to cry. She grabs for Superman's hand, and he takes it. Through her tears, she mumbles, "I'm gonna be in so much trouble, huh?"

Clark chuckles. "That's for your Mom and Dad to decide, not me. But in the future, remember that little girls need their sleep, and that roaming the city at night is dangerous."

"Does Supahman need sleep too?" Lily asks offhandedly in a thick voice.

Clark pauses before he responds. He is suddenly overcome with a longing to climb into bed, to let his eyes slide closed, and to drift into the heavy nothingness that comes with sleep.

"Yes. I think I do."

"Then why aren't you sleepin'?"

"Good question," Clark remarks with an undertone of bitterness, but that quickly fades. "Right now, I have more important things to do. Like taking you home. Are you alright to fly?"

He stands and extends his hand to the little girl.

"Yes pleez," she replies, and she outstretches her arms. It is then that Clark scoops the little girl up in his arms and flies her back to her mom, who shrieks with relief and lays kiss after kiss on Lily's cheeks. Then, she moves onto Superman, expressing deep gratitude and promises of repayment, which he firmly declines, but she's not apt to listen in her state.

Lily demands that Superman reads her a bedtime story, even though it must be close to dawn. He still agrees and picks a book that he remembers from his own childhood, reading it enthusiastically as the parents look on. He wonders if he is undermining them somehow. But no...there is just gratitude in their features. And that means the world.

Later on, he leaves and patrols for a few more hours. Eventually, the sun comes up, and he returns to the apartment, his head reminiscent of a pile of lead, and feeling just as opaque as one. The window is still open, luckily, and he pushes his way into it.

Lois lies on the bed, sprawled under the covers, and her hair splayed across the pillows. Her arm is outstretched toward the spot where he normally stays beside her, but the space is empty and cold.

Leaning down, he kisses the side of her neck and whispers _good morning_ in her ear. She doesn't respond, but then again, she's never been much of a morning person.

He lets her sleep on. They have a big day ahead of themselves, and he figures that at least one of them deserves some decent shut-eye.

* * *

Ringing. It's filling Clark's head and his ears - so loud that it's almost unbearable. Especially here, right now. Something about this place makes it worse. So much worse.

He tries to distract himself by doodling on his notepad, but the pictures end up looking like Kryptonian symbols that he never intended to make. So he crosses them out fearfully.

"Ms. Lane? Mr. Kent?" a dark-haired woman then montones from a spot next to the check-in desk. She is dressed sharply, in a finely pressed blazer and skirt. Her high-heels are so tall that Clark wonders how she manages to wear them (without the ability to fly, no less).

Clark and Lois raise their hands in greeting, thus notifying her of their seated presence in the Lexcorp Towers lobby. They've been waiting here for some time now, though Clark finds it surprising that Lex ultimately decided to meet with them at all.

"Mr. Luthor is ready to see you now. I'll bring you to him," the woman continues with a complete lack of cheerfulness, a scowl evident in her features. For some reason, her voice sounds vaguely familiar, but Clark's headache becomes so strong that he forgets the familiarity entirely.

_She'll bring me to Lex,_ _so that Lex can bring me to the Kryptonite_, Clark thinks with a mixture of nervousness and bitterness. To add to the cacophony of the headache, something else inside of him is positively _screaming_ that this - this confrontation with Lex - is a terrible idea.

Of course, that could also be his exhaustion talking. And if his exhaustion _could_ talk, it would be telling him that _any_ activity, including talking to Lex, will be torturous unless he gets some sleep. It was hard enough doing his routine patrols around the city last night, with his shaky flights and waning concentration. At this point, he is relatively sure that he will not last much longer, in this state. Whether he can actually die from exhaustion, given his invulnerability, he does not know. But if he keeps traveling down this road, lasting damage of some sort seems pretty likely.

But he refuses to even think of dying right now. He has a purpose as Superman that _needs_ to be fulfilled. He has people that he loves. Even if Lex is uncooperative, he'll have to find some way to carry on.

So he stands, but when does, he stumbles slightly. Lois dexterously grasps his shoulder to stabilize him, and he is able to right himself. A glance at her face reveals her anchor-like brown eyes, which are so steady with conviction, but glowing with concern. Whereas Clark is filled with doubts, she is so sure - so hopeful - that they will accomplish a way to help him.

He trusts her. And if the world stood against her, he would stand by Lois Lane. So he focuses on the feeling of her standing, and soon walking, by his side. The thought of her, though normally distracting, keeps his concentration clear for the time being.

With the woman leading the way, they board a fancy glass elevator, which immediately lifts them to the topmost floor of the tower. It is upon disembarking that they reach a set of heavy oak doors which, Clark can tell, have a recent layer of lead paint on the internal side. It is impossible to see inside, and he tries to ignore the possibility that he is walking into a room filled with Kryptonite.

The woman knocks briskly on the rightmost door, still demonstrating a complete dearth of emotion. Eventually, a response comes.

"Enter!" it barks, muffled from the thickness of the wood.

Then, the doors swing open automatically, revealing a grand room with a full view of the Metropolis skyline. Lex is in front of the window, seated at a sleek desk with its papers precisely organized in perfect piles. Clark, in his own way, is pretty organized, but not to this extent. If he could guess, he would assume that the room houses something robotic, since everything seems so utterly untouched by messy human (and as far as Clark is concerned, Kryptonian) hands.

Lex's posture appears to be casual, but there is a tension in it. It makes Clark hesitate as he wonders what he is planning, but Lois is much less cautious. She barrels right into his office, dismissively telling the woman, "That'll be all, Missy. Thanks. I've got business with the boss."

Clark tries to smile apologetically at the woman, but she is already walking away. Thus, without much else to do, he follows Lois inside, coming to stand in front of Lex's desk.

"A pleasure to see you, as always, Lois," Lex greets relatively pleasantly (emphasis on _relative_). He's never _actually _been pleasant - not in Clark's, experience anyway. In fact, the sound of Lex's voice always makes his skin crawl, but he supposes that's Lex's intention.

The sinister atmosphere created by the sound of that voice only increases when the doors shut automatically behind them, leaving them trapped in the office with its less-than-trustworthy owner.

"However...I am a bit mystified as to why you brought your _alien_ co-worker along. We both know he's far from being your equal in reporting. But what can you expect from an inhuman strongman?" Lex continues with a pointed look in Clark's direction.

Clark chooses not to respond. Instead, he keeps his gaze stern as he asks: "Are we going to be overheard? Is this room secure?"

Lex's eyes glint mischievously from his spot at his desk. "Whatever is said in here will remain between us. In fact, this room is so soundproof… _you'd_ probably have considerable trouble listening to my conversations. Or haven't you so noticed?"

Clark sets his jaw. "I've noticed. But I just wanted to make sure. I can't trust you."

"Well, you're going to have to. I'm in on your little secret now, aren't I?"

Lois, meanwhile, crosses her arms as her expression becomes stormy. "Well, apparently we weren't _in_ on all of yours - surprise, surprise. Not until recently, anyway. We now know that you bought up all that land in Smallville, Lex. And that you're harvesting Kryptonite."

He raises an eyebrow. "And are you under the impression that I'll deny those accusations? I won't. They're true. But it should be noted that the purchases weren't illegal, nor were they clandestinely conducted."

Clark yet again wonders why Lex agreed to meet with them, if his justifications behind his actions are so strong. Is he really so afraid of Lois writing a scathing article? Or… is there some other reason?

"Not illegal yet, maybe. But are they the means of a future murder attempt?" Lois counters. "What possible use could you have for Kryptonite?"

Clark can think of a few. He can recall the feeling of a tranquilizer, laced with the stuff, being injected into his veins by Emil Hamilton - can recall the sensation of boiling blood and _imploding_ cells. Because that's what Kryptonite does. It tears him apart, decays every part of him, bit by bit. Small quantities he can sustain, as discovered by Hamilton himself, when he decided to further lace an inhalable sedative with powdered Kryptonite. The result left Clark alive, but unable to move or properly think… except about the way that each breath would bring a wave of pain, akin to the razor blades, into his lungs.

Lois is probably remembering the event from her own perspective, because she adds in a quiet voice: "What uses… other than hurting Superman?"

Suddenly, Lex is rolling his eyes. "Please. I know you're both convinced that I have some nefarious plan to 'destroy' Superman. But as of right now, I assure you, I do not intend to enact one. The Kryptonite is harvested for the purpose of scientific study, which Lexcorp has a right to."

"Those are pieces of my planet!" Clark protests with newfound anger, disgusted that Lex has so easily claimed not only Krypton's remains, but considerable space in his hometown. It feels like he is slowly taking everything away from him (including, if he is not mistaken, his ability to sleep). "You can't just-"

"It's within my legal rights to claim the contents of that land."

"What you found wasn't there until _I arrived there._ Besides, if your past actions prove anything, it's that you'll exploit anything - anyone - to get what you want. And you obviously want me dead."

Lex makes an odd noise, but it is not quite a laugh. It's some sort of expression of incredulity, bitterness, and amusement, all rolled into one.

"'_Want you dead_?' You're an absolute idiot. I could have left you for dead last year, on that boat. But I didn't. Lucky enough for you, there is someone who is more important to me than some sort of misplaced '_victory' _over you. And despite all fathomable logic or protestation on my part, she seems to find something pleasurable in you."

Clark is rendered silent as he watches a bright red blush spread across Lois's cheeks, despite her frustrated features. She grasps her own forearms in a display of discomfort.

He knows that she's uncomfortable because Lex's attentions are unwanted and intrusive. But that paranoid part of him that reappears, and it forces him to wonder if her blush indicates something else.

"I'd _assume_ that your physical features and powers fascinate her," Lex continues reproachfully. "It's understandable. She is a woman, after all, and you do _unnaturally_ fulfill certain standards of human male beauty. Or perhaps she finds novelty in attaining something so seemingly unattainable. Once again, it's understandable. Even I have shared similar urges, in the past, with other relationships."

Lois wouldn't..._can't_… love him simply based off looks, or his status as 'special.' He can feel it somewhere deep inside of him. They love each other… they really do...

_Don't they? _

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Clark blusters, but Lex continues eagerly.

"Once she realizes how utterly _revolting_ your inhuman qualities are, I'm sure that her interest will wane. In fact, I've calculated the probabilities, and they are strongly in favor of this outcome. But for the time being, I have decided to tolerate you - much like the way someone might tolerate an irksome pet dog, well on its way to being shipped back to the shelter-"

"That's enough, Lex!" Lois yells, her fists clenching. "Shut up!"

"Oh dear. It appears I have struck a chord. Or have I revealed a truth for which your lover is not ready, Lois? If so, my sincerest apologies. But I don't see much of a point in prolonging the facade. As far as I can tell, he's very naive, and he might actually believe you to be in love with him."

Clark's veins feel like ice. Has Lex really spent time calculating the probabilities that Lois will grow tired of her current relationship? And if those probabilities are so large, is Clark wrong? Has he misinterpreted everything? Is her disinclination toward marriage an indication of something larger? An expectation that this, that everything they share, will not last?

He loves her. He loves her _so_ _much_...but what if he has mistaken an infatuation for something more, as Lex suggests?

He looks at Lois helplessly, hoping that she can eliminate this paranoia. That's all this is, right? Paranoia? He wants it to be so desperately - he wants to know that Lex is manipulating him, as odd as that may be. Because he can't lose her. He _can't_.

"I'm an open book," Lois asserts, her focus on Lex. "We both know how we feel, and you're not gonna drive a wedge between us with your bullshit. Besides, we're here because of your operation in Smallville, not for your whacked out relationship counseling. These things that you're doing with Kryptonite… you're messing with forces beyond even _your_ comprehension."

"Despite popular belief, Kryptonite is hardly complex in its functions. So no, I'm not messing with 'forces beyond my comprehension.''" He raises an eyebrow. "Unless...there is something far more interesting buried in the Smallville soil. Something that concerns you even more than Kryptonite."

Lex then scrutinizes Clark's face, taking their silence as an invitation to do so. "Are those dark circles under your eyes, Kent? I didn't know you could even _have_ such things. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"He obviously already knows what's happening," Lois remarks to Clark, her voice irate. He can hear her heartbeat increasing with anger. "Where is it, Lex? Where are you keeping the crystal?"

Lex only smirks.

"You know what? You're an asshole," Lois snarls. "_Now_ you're telling me that you _knew_ that these things were happening to Clark the whole time? You knew that every rescue he tried to make became more dangerous, because of his state? That we suffered sleepless night after sleepless night, fear and worry and worse, while you sat here reveling in the _humor_ of it all?"

Lex doesn't react much to Lois's words, but Clark does. He wants to kiss her. In actuality, he always wants to kiss her, but right now he most definitely wants to kiss her.

But he also wants to punch Lex very, very hard.

"If you knew I had it in my possession, you would have certainly taken it from me. I couldn't risk that, especially with the potential it represented," Lex explains.

"But you _do_ have it?"

"I've had it for a while now. I was studying it in one of my laboratories. Myself, and a whole team. It's an intriguing device, I will admit."

"A laboratory?" Clark repeats. "That's why the dreams… they always involved labs."

Lex's smirk does not fade. "Indeed, I soon learned that the crystal was giving off signals and frequencies that nothing on Earth could interpret. I studied them closely, realizing that they nearly resembled human brain waves. It was then that one of its functions - contacting you - became quite clear to me."

"Is that all it does?" Clark demands. "Mess with my head? Is that why you're so keen on keeping it? To use it against me?"

"_Please_. I hypothesize that it's true purpose goes so far beyond 'messing with your head.' This crystal is meant to contain data - perhaps _universes_ worth of knowledge. Unfortunately, as far as I'm concerned, it's impossible to activate. At least…"

"At least what?"

"At least without _you_," Lex says, staring at Clark with intensity. His voice betrays jealousy that is equal in that intensity. "It must be encoded to your DNA. Why else would it call out to you with a distress call, when we were studying it? Why would it try to force you retrieve it so many times? You're _supposed_ to access this incredible knowledge, yet you, being the fool that you are, left it buried in a field. It's ridiculous."

"So the nightmares were showing me what was happening to the crystal in real time. It wanted me to come find it," Clark realizes.

"Clearly."

"And let me guess…" Lois begins, her voice unamused. "You agreed to see us, despite hating Clark and knowing that I'm a lost cause, because you wanted Clark to activate it for you. To give you access to this knowledge."

Lex looks almost appealingly at Clark, but his expression still betrays too much arrogance to be considered as such. "Imagine what could be accomplished with the information on the crystal, Kal-El. The human race could eliminate disease… war… chaos, in all its forms. You're supposed to be selfless. Don't you want that?"

"Clark…" Lois interjects warningly. "I'm all for 'peace on Earth,' but we don't know what this thing does. It could be a _weapon_, for all we know."

Lex waves his hand dismissively. "Then perhaps even that will be a good thing. A weapon to ward off future Monguls. Are you truly going to keep such a thing _buried?_"

"Yeah, and I'm _sure_ Lex has _no_ plans to wield that weapon for his own purposes," she remarks sarcastically.

Clark takes a moment to consider his options. It's not exactly a hard choice, however. He knows who he trusts. Lois. He trusts Lois.

"I'm taking the crystal, Lex," Clark declares. "And I'll decide what should be done with it. There are things that the human race isn't ready for yet - that I'm not even ready for yet. And I'm definitely not handing those things over to you."

Lex is smirking again. "You're willingness to cooperate is a bit irrelevant. In fact, if my predictions are correct...I really don't think you're going to have much of a choice."

He then pulls something out from under his desk - a rusted toolbox, so opaque that is must be made of lead. The container clicks open, revealing something large, about the size of a book, and diamond-like in structure and material. It catches the light like a prism, and as soon as it is removed from the box, the ringing in Clark's ears becomes almost unbearable - like an air horn preventing the formation of all clear thoughts. The light it reflects seems to glare into his eyes, distorting his vision until all he can see is the shape of the crystal.

Something seems to snap inside his head. He is plunged into cold water, and everything seems to spin. Everything blurs. Except for the crystal. It is his anchor. It's his _everything_.

But the spinning stops, and when it does, it seems like the world changes color and the everything that _was_ no longer exists. Waking. That's what he's doing. Waking from a long dream. Everything is so clear, so clear. Like the sun. Clear like the sun. Like diamonds. Like the crystal.

Whispers. Whispers everywhere. Snippets of Kryptonese and the chanting of his birth name. They call to him. _Kal-El_. That's his name. That's who he is. And this crystal is his birthright, it's _his_. His. Like his home. Like Krypton.

There's a thumping sound. It invades his thoughts. It's unwelcome. Unnatural. He tries to block it out.

All he sees is the crystal, and his hand. Kryptonian hands - hands formed from the genes of Krypton's greatest scientist. The crystal belongs in his hand, and nowhere else. He'll be _nothing_ if he does not take it. He's Kal-El. It's his, after all. It was meant for him. He _needs_ it. The crystal is everything, and he must… _must_ take it… his hand is outstretched toward it...

"Clark!" someone can be heard yelling, and there is a pressure on his shoulder.

Clark...Clark...? It's a word he doesn't understand. Words like that are not from Krypton… Clark… is it a word at all? Is it a name?

"Clark, stop! Don't!"

It's a name. It must be a name. But what name? _Whose_ name?

_Does it matter_? The crystal is _everything_. Kal-El's everything. _Take it, or you'll have nothing. _

Nothing? No, there's something here. He can hear that strange thumping. The thumping - it's getting louder. Faster. It sounds so familiar too… like a heartbeat…

A heartbeat? Yes, it _is_ a heartbeat. A heart. His heart, maybe? No...that's the crystal. It _has_ to be.

No….the crystal's not a heart… that's not _his_ heart. This sound… it's his heart, but not actually _his _heart. It means everything. It is his anchor… the voice… the heartbeat. Why can't he see it? Why can't he see her?

Her voice. Her heartbeat. _Her_. Lois? Lois...

"Clark-"

She's calling him Clark? Clark...that's _his _name. He's human. But no, he's not that either. He's somewhere in between. _Something_ in between. But he's not Kal-El, has never been just Kal-El. Something's wrong. So very wrong. He's _confused_. This right now, this has to be a dream, and he's losing himself inside of it, inside of himself. He should… no, he _needs_ to snap out of it. This isn't him, and he's losing himself. He needs to snap out of it. Snap out of it...

But it's too late. His consciousness returns just as his hand closes around the crystal. Blue light floods from it, nearly blinding him, and it begins to vibrate within his grasp.

_To be continued..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO RELATED**

**A/N: I know that I'm late. I've been really, really busy. Didn't even have time to check over this chapter again. **

**Anyway, this chapter was me trying to get you to see what "being Superman" is like from Clark's perspective. Hope you liked it! Please review! Gotta go!**


	43. Chapter Nine - Kryptonian

_CHAPTER NINE - KRYPTONIAN_

For a while there, luck seemed to be in their favor. Lois and Clark were able to get Lex to reveal his possession of the crystal, which was an accomplishment in itself. Not only that, but they also learned the reasons behind Clark's nightmares, and a potential way to stop them. Even with the possibility of the crystal being dangerous, Lois was sure that as long as Clark avoided activating it (however he may do that), they would be alright. Hell, maybe all their problems were about to solved, and everything was about to go back to normal.

But boy oh boy, was she wrong.

Because then Lex took out that box, and by extension, the crystal. Clark's close proximity seemed to become some sort of trigger for the device. Upon it coming into view, it immediately began to glow blue, just like Martha and Jonathan described. Perhaps, under different circumstances, it would have been a beautiful sight, but at the moment, Lois was far too preoccupied with Lex's words.

"_I really don't think you're going to have much of a choice_," he had said to Clark, referring to Clark's refusal to activate the crystal.

For several moments, Lois did not understand his meaning. But soon enough, she was enlightened in the worst possible way.

Not only was Clark a trigger for the crystal...but the crystal also triggered something inside Clark. Lois could only watch with horror as his gaze fixed on the crystal, as if hypnotized by it. Then there seemed to be some intense struggle in his expression, but even that was eventually wiped away by a sudden blankness, accompanied by fully blue, glowing eyes. It was in that moment that Lois became truly terrified because, in that blankness, she could find nothing of _Clark_ in his face. Yes, the physical features were still the same, but all personality, everything that showed that there was a person under his skin...was _gone_.

And then he started to move slowly toward the crystal, his hand outstretched to take it for his own. Lex, who was meanwhile at his desk, grinned darkly at the entire situation, eagerly awaiting to see the final outcome of this little "experiment" with Kryptonian technology, and the planet's only survivor.

"Lex!" Lois yelled "This is crazy! Put the crystal away, before you hurt someone!"

He only shook his head. "The inventors of the atomic bomb theorized that their creation could open a black hole that would destroy all of reality. I am willing to take the same risks, to accomplish something great."

_Wonderful,_ Lois thought sarcastically. _Lex is banking on this thing being the next atom bomb. Because that went over so well the first time._

But Lois was also concerned about what the crystal would do to Clark, mentally or physically, if he touched it. So she tried grabbing Clark's shoulder and screaming in his ear, trying to snap him out of this odd trance. But he was completely unresponsive. He kept moving forward. Or perhaps she should say 'stumbled,' because his movements were so robotic - so forced - that it seemed he no longer knew how to walk properly. But to her chagrin, he continued onwards all the same.

"Clark, stop! Don't!" she ordered, her heart hammering in her chest with fear.

There was a moment - a hopeful one - when something seemed to shift in Clark's features at the sound of her voice. His brow furrowed, and his lips parted. It might have been...confusion? But at least it was recognition of something...that she _existed_. She was getting through to him.

But...ultimately, it wasn't enough. He still proceeded forward. He still pushed past Lois and grabbed for the crystal.

And now… now all hell is breaking loose.

At his touch, the crystal glows so vibrant a blue that Lois is forced to shield her eyes. Energy pours from it, electrical and palpable in the air, like ozone. It's not exactly painful, but it still prickles her skin.

Amidst the chaos, she hears Clark cry out. She listens to his voice as she shuts her eyes tight, trying to block out the light. Despite her blindness, Lois tries to move forward, intending to make him drop the damn thing before it hurts him further, mentally or physically.

"I don't understand…" she catches him murmuring. "What...what happened to me?"

Even through her lids, Lois can see the light dim a bit. Thus, she cautiously opens her eyes, fearful that the change in illumination is only temporary. But such is not the case.

She is greeted by the sight of Clark, changed into the Superman costume that he wears under his clothes, with his business suit discarded on the ground. Wrapped in his cape is the crystal, but even with that covering, some of the light seeps through - and it's glowing brighter by the second… getting stronger.

"I'm sorry…" Clark says, looking at Lois pleadingly. His eyes are still glowing, but at least his personality has been somewhat restored. "I didn't...I didn't know what I was doing…"

"It's not your fault," she replies, approaching him while shooting a glare in Lex's direction, who has also just finished shielding his eyes. She is going to _kick_ that bald maniac's _ass_ at the first opportunity… no doubt about it. But right now, Clark is still connected to the crystal somehow, and judging by the strained look on his face, he's still fighting to maintain control of his own body.

As she approaches Clark further, intending to get that crystal as far away from him as possible, he motions for her stop.

"Don't come any closer!" he warns. "Please...The crystal...I think it's building up energy, and I'm pretty sure it's going to release it too."

Her eyes widen. A 'release of energy,' in her experience, generally means an explosion, and given the fact that they're inside Lexcorp Towers, which employs thousands of people, she fully comprehends the seriousness of the situation.

"We can't let it happen. We'll have to take it out of here. Far away."

"Far away?" Lex repeats, standing up angrily. "You're both too caught up in the worst case scenario. This crystal was sent to spread knowledge, not destroy. I'm _meant_ to see this. You can't-"

"Shut up, Lex!" Lois and Clark yell in unison, unwilling to listen to him any further. They then return their attentions back to one another, and the pressing matter of relocating the crystal to a safe location.

"Where?" Clark asks, rubbing his temples with his free hand. "I can't...I can't think straight. My powers are messed up. I need somewhere unpopulated… somewhere this can go off."

"Space?"

"I don't know...I've never tried to do something like that, and I don't think now's the time to test my limits."

"The Arctic, then!" Lois offers forcefully, snapping her fingers. "We don't have a lot of time!"

He nods weakly, his eyes glowing so brightly that Lois nearly has to shield her vision again. "I think that'll...that'll work."

Clark moves toward the door, preparing to leave, but suddenly the gravity of the situation hits Lois even more. So she briefly stands in his way, just for a second. Stupid decision, she knows, but there are things that she _has to_ say to him just in case… just in case this is the last time.

"Clark," she begins in a cracking voice. "If this thing really is...really is gonna explode...just… get out of there, okay? It's from your planet, which means that it could very well kill you, and I just..." She sighs briskly. "I need you to come back. Okay?

He pauses for the briefest of moments before saying, "I will. I'll come back for you."

Then, with what Lois suspects is considerable superspeed, she feels his lips brush against her own. But the kiss is ultimately the shortest they have ever shared, and he is soon long gone, flying far away.

She can only hope that he makes it out of this okay.

Now, Lois is left alone with Lex, whose expression is rather unreadable at his desk. Is he disappointed that he will not experience the crystal's capabilities? Or is he glad that Clark's life could end today? Maybe he is just jealous of the concern Lois is showing for Clark?

Lois's fist clenches, ready to _punch_ him after the stunt he just pulled. But she figures that it will accomplish nothing. He'll still be Lex, he'll still be rich, he'll still be trying to ruin her life in one way or another. He's not worth it.

But one thing is for sure: her gratitude toward him for saving Clark last has nearly disappeared in its entirety.

Thus, her glare is like daggers when her eyes meet his, and after wordlessly picking up Clark's belongings, she storms out of the room.

* * *

Clark didn't come home to the apartment that night. He didn't return during the day either. Midnight of the second night has just passed, and he is still startlingly absent.

Lois tries to avoid worrying too much. Perhaps he got distracted by some overseas disaster that required Superman's aid. It wouldn't be the first time, of course…

But the news reports no Superman sightings, and no disasters. Which, against her better judgement and her faith in Clark, leads her to acute panic. What if the crystal _destroyed_ him? Or stripped him of everything that made him Clark Kent, leaving that blank slate of a Kryptonian behind?

So she tried and failed at 'not worrying.'

To pass the time, she writes articles, covering the stories that Clark is missing during his pretend "sick day." But to her, it doesn't seem like extra work. In fact, right now, it's quite welcome.

Sometimes she thinks that this is only way she's able to escape the present - in her writing. Her fingers pound the desired keys with the greatest alacrity, and she lets her wild emotions fade away as she becomes _Objective, Pulitzer-Winning Reporter Lois Lane_.

Usually, _Lois Lane, the woman_ isn't any different - even in the attitudes of her articles. She's just as aggressive, as blunt, and as critical as she appears on paper. But there is more to her right now. She is filled with overwhelming emotions that threaten to spill onto the document, even for unrelated topics like the credit-card scam that's sweeping Metropolis, or the mismanagement in the city's sewage maintenance department. Her finger yearn to write _Where are you?_ over and over again, as if he - or someone… anyone… could answer her at the bottom of the page.

But staying calm for the sake of her articles seems to be soothing. It lets her know that there is a world outside of the claustrophobic space inside her mind, which is filled with frantic thoughts that press down upon her like weights. A world where matters are more-or-less simple - where life and death situations _aren't_ commonplace, like they frequently seem to be in Lois's experiences. Right now she is not Lois, but a third person narrator in Metropolis's continuous story. It makes everything seem a little more insignificant, even if her current situation is far from being such.

At some point, she dozes off at her computer, her face flat against the keyboard. It must be several hours later when she hears a voice say: "Lois?"

Her eyes shoot open and her she sits straight upwards. Upon spinning around, she sees Clark standing near the open window. Both his cape and the curtains are billowing around him, the fabrics reminiscent of white and red angel wings.

She quickly examines him, discovering that he is completely intact, despite her fears. The dark circles under his eyes have even disappeared, leaving him looking as energetic and healthy as he previously had.

And then she is conflicted by the fact that he's so… so… okay? He left her here for nearly two days, worrying her goddamn _ass_ _off_ about him. She thought he was dead, for all she knew, but nope. He's here, bright-eyed and thriving, back in their apartment like he just returned from the supermarket, for Christ's sake_._

Alright, well, he wouldn't go to the supermarket in his Superman costume, but _still_. He has some _serious_ explaining to do, and she's _seriously_ considering punching him.

But then again, she is so _damn relieved _that she also finds herself resisting the urge to kiss him wildly.

Ultimately, Lois unconsciously chooses the latter. (He wouldn't feel anything if she punched him, anyway). So she stands and runs until she collides with him, thus throwing her arms around his body. The force by which she proceeds to kiss him would probably injure a normal person...but she knows he can handle it, so she doesn't hold back. And soon enough, he is returning the embrace and meeting her lips with his own, becoming equally as absorbed in the emotion of their reunion.

Eventually, they break apart, but not entirely. Because he shows no inclination to let her go, and she has no desire to move away from him, they remain enclosed in each other's arms as they stand there. Her head leans against him, with her forehead just reaching his collarbone. Like usual, he is warm, and his heartbeat hammers steadily under the _S_ insignia.

"Where _the hell_ have you been?" she mumbles angrily against his chest. "You had me so effing worried, Clark. It was driving me crazy…"

He leans down so that his mouth is pressed against the top of her head. That way, when he speaks, she can feel the movements of his lips. "I know. I'm sorry… when the crystal went off… it knocked me unconscious. And then…"

Clark trails off as he shifts his head and rests its side against the top of her own. He continues to clutch her tightly, which is something that Lois might otherwise enjoy. But right now, she finds herself unwilling to accept his meager explanation. After all her panic, she _knows _she deserves more than that. She deserves the truth.

What _really_ happened in the Arctic? Where's the crystal? And just how strong was the explosion if it knocked Clark unconscious?

She lowers her arms and takes a small step backwards so that she can see his face, and vice versa. Because right now, Lois wants him to notice her raised eyebrows and unamused expression. The reporter and concerned girlfriend in her _need _more information.

"I know," he says, easily guessing what's on her mind. "You want to know what happened _exactly_. And I want to tell you. But to be honest...it's a little more than words can express. On the other hand... I can _show_ you, if you want. Because I do. I want to show you."

"Show me?" she repeats. "Show me what?"

He only smiles. "It's a surprise. Do you have a winter coat? If you decide to go...you're going to need it."

* * *

Lois can only gape. Because as she stands on top of an arctic glacier, with snow caking her boots and the wind freezing her every nerve, she is greeted by the sight of a _crystal castle _of some sort. It's breathtaking - huge. Unlike anything that she has ever seen before. She struggles to describe it accurately, even in her own mind.

She supposes that the surface of the structure seems to be made out of separate, crystalline spires, which interlock to create walls that tower over her, reaching up toward the sky. They glint in the light of the Arctic sun like diamonds - and more interestingly, just like Clark's crystal.

The building's shape is unlike any architecture she has seen before, thus giving it an otherworldly quality. But she supposes that such a quality makes sense in the current situation. In fact, she starts to doubt whether she should even refer to it as a "palace." If anything, it seems more like a fortress with its thick walls and its apparent impenetrability.

"So...what do you think?" Clark asks, tightening the hand that is currently holding and intertwined with hers.

"It's incredible," Lois replies. "And the crystal...made this?"

He nods. "Yes. Apparently my father wanted me to have some part of Krypton on Earth. He didn't want me to lose sight of my culture."

"And how do you know that?" Lois inquires, surprised that he suddenly understands his birth father's intentions so fully.

He pauses before replying, like he is trying to piece together a murky memory. "When I brought the crystal here, its energy release knocked me unconscious not because of extreme force, but because it was _supposed_ to affect me that way. This… building built itself around me, around where I slept and healed from the exhaustion it had caused me. But more than that, I think the crystal also downloaded years of Kryptonian knowledge into my memory. My father designed it to do that, so that Krypton's culture could live on, through me."

"You're joking."

"I wish I was. Using those signals Lex talked about, I think it sort of hijacked my brain waves. Gave me all the Kryptonian cultural awareness that I lacked."

"So does this mean you can speak Kryptonian now? And not just in your sleep?"

He nods again, easily replying: "_Zhi, khahp ehwor kryptahniuo ugem. Rrip skulir zrhueiao gemzeht_."

Lois whistles in admiration of this newfound skill, proceeding to ask: "And what does that mean?"

"It means, 'yes, I can speak Kryptonese now.'"

"That was a lot of words for such a simple meaning."

"Well," he begins, blushing a bit, "I also said 'you look beautiful today,' but I thought that might embarrass you."

Lois isn't sure how to react, so she can only return the blush. _Of course _he has to give her ridiculous compliments that make her want to curl into a shyness-induced fetal position. Words like that are especially odd, coming from him, considering that he is so handsome that he has literally (and in Lois's opinion, deservingly) been declared the _Sexiest Man Alive_. Indeed, he's angelic and otherworldly, just like this strange crystal castle. So the notion that he finds her beautiful is almost as unlikely as the notion of this inanimate fortress finding her beautiful. Except… except that Clark really does feel that strongly about her, for some strange reason.

So she does what she normally does when she struggles to make sense of everything: she cracks a joke.

"You're too damn sweet, Smallville. But then again, for all I know, you could be calling me _ugly_ because I can't understand you."

"If I called you ugly, in any language, then I'd be nothing but an absolute liar."

"Then maybe you were cursing at me."

He looks somewhat indignant. "I'd never do that. Cursing is _rude_, Lois, and it badly influences children."

She blinks and laughs at his stereotypical farmboy manners. "Clark, we're in the _Arctic_. I don't think any children will fall victim to the '_evils of swear words_' while we're here."

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Do you want to come inside, or are you going to keep trying to make me look bad?"

"Well, if we're dishing out compliments here, Smallville, I really don't think _anything in the universe_ could make you look bad."

* * *

The inside is even more breathtaking. The entrance, which only seems to open at Clark's touch, leads to a spacious hall. At its center is a crystal statue - a man and a woman in geometric clothing, their hands united to lift a spherical planet. From the hologram she watched in the Kents' cellar, she can easily relate the figures to the image of his biological parents. It astounds her that it is here, having seemingly formed on its own.

Clark guides her by the hand toward what appears to be some sort of holographic computer console, also made of crystal, just like everything else in this 'fortress'. It immediately reacts to his presence, blaring out words that must be Kryptonian. The sentence ends with "Kal-El," so she figures that it must be some sort of greeting. In response, Clark says a few things in a commanding tone, but she cannot make sense of them.

"What did that mean?" she asks. "Not that I'm trying to butt into your conversation with your crystal fortress, but I'm starting to feel like a third wheel here."

He smiles. "I asked the computer to access Earth frequencies and signals to learn human languages." Then, the smile falters a bit. "Just because I can speak Kryptonian now, doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it - it still feels like I was _forced_ to know these things. And the fact that something could control me so easily… scares me, to be honest."

For a few moments, Lois doesn't know how to respond to that. His implications… are significant, of course. The idea that something - anything - could manipulate Superman to commit horrible deeds is certainly terrifying. And since Lois experienced the way that the crystal almost wiped Clark's personality clean… she cannot say that it is a notion beyond comprehension.

But it is also something that she refuses to consider possible.

"You resisted this thing the whole time, Clark. Even when the crystal was in your hand, you managed to regain control of yourself. I won't say that you shouldn't be afraid of losing control… but I think you should also trust yourself not to."

"I suppose," he sighs. "And this is what I wanted, right? To learn about my culture?"

"As far as you've told me, yes."

"I just… this is more like inheriting a house from a dead relative. It's not the same as _knowing them._ It's just their old stuff. Given to me for safe-keeping," he muses. "Not sure I want it. I would have preferred to learn about Krypton from someone actually from there, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand how you must be feeling."

There is silence for a few moments, in which she suspects Clark is contemplating his status as _The Last Son of Krypton_ too deeply. Once again, she tries to lighten the mood.

"This could make a good place for a romantic getaway, though," Lois remarks half-jokingly.

He raises an eyebrow, but smirks. "In the Arctic?"

"Well, it's no Hawaii, but it's not that cold _in here_. And how hard would it be to fly a mattress up here?"

"_Anyyyway_," Clark interrupts, still smirking visibly, but trying to straighten his features. "There's something else I wanted to show you. There's this device that the crystal made - my father's records called it a '_Phantom Zone projector.'" _He runs his hand over a box-like mechanism protruding from the floor next to the holographic computer.

"That sounds a bit scary," Lois remarks.

"What it does is...confusing. A bit beyond me. But if I'm not mistaken, it might have been used to house objects in some sort of pocket dimension. I don't know if my father ever used it, but if he had, I wonder whether I should try to open the door-"

Suddenly, the screen of the computer lights up on its own and emits a beeping sound. Lois is initially impressed by the speed at which the system responds to Clark's commands, however subtle they may be. But then it begins talking in Kryptonian, and she sees Clark's eyebrows knit together in incredulity and confusion.

"What is it?" she inquires. "Something wrong?"

Clark takes a step toward the computer. "The system is reporting your presence as some sort of violation of its 'Eradicator' protocols. But that shouldn't be right… I'm supposed to _command_ the system, and if I'm giving you access-"

The computer blares again, and suddenly, crystals form and expand from the ground. They shape into humanoid figures that stand and approach them threateningly, sharp arms of jagged crystal pointed toward them.

Clark pulls Lois behind himself and yells a string of Kryptonian words, all of them clearly commands for the robots to stop. But they do not listen, and continue to approach.

Groaning in aggravation, Clark speeds forward and smashes the crystals apart with his bare hands. They fall in broken shards to the ground with a tinkling sound, like a shattered window. After that, they are still, leaving Lois and Clark with nothing but immense surprise and confusion.

Clark turns to her, saying, "I'm sorry. I don't know why that happened. It _shouldn't _have happened."

"It's alright," Lois replies, though in her head, she can admit that she is shaken by his fortress's reaction to her. "I mean, no harm, no-"

_BEEEEP. BEEEEP._ The computer is screeching some sort of alarm now, and all Lois can do is cover her ears to block it out. Even Clark cries out at the sound, proceeding mimic her action with a pained expression. She can only imagine how the volume is affecting his super-hearing, if it is hurting _her_ ears this badly.

They are nearly paralyzed by the noise, and as they stand there, frozen, the shattered piece of crystal reform and regroup, drawing more material from the ground below. Soon, they have reformed into more crystal creatures - greater in number and size. As Lois stares in horror, they begin to move toward her menacingly, like they fully intend to tear her limb from limb.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR DC COMICS-RELATED**

**A/N: For those of you who don't know how my writing process works, I always try to be many chapters ahead of my posting so I can go back and correct mistakes/fix continuity errors. And currently, this book (including the chapters I have not posted) is 400 pages long, and I'm not nearly done, which is kinda crazy. Plus, when I say "this book" I mean book two on its own, not book one. So yeah. This is gonna be loooong. **

**Tbh, this book should have been broken into two, but I wanted it to be a trilogy. Oh well. **

**Also remember that thing I said about not everything in this series being happy and fluffy? Please keep that in mind and refrain from yelling at me when that stuff happens. **

**And I'm sorry to leave you guys with another cliffhanger! But this chapter was super long as it is and I need to stall for time while I finish this book so I can get on to the next one. Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	44. Chapter Ten - Phantom

_CHAPTER TEN - PHANTOM_

"Clark!" Lois yells, backing away. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices more of the creatures forming - attempting to trap her.

A glance at Clark reveals him still agonizing from the sound of the alarm - but wait... something else is wrong. His eyes - they're glowing again, and he's straining vocally. The crystal - or crystals now, she supposes - are fighting for control of him again. And Lois suspects that the reason why… is to get _him_ to eliminate _her_.

And in a room bare of anything but crystals determined to destroy her, and with Clark preoccupied, she's essentially defenseless.

"C'mon, Clark! I could really use Superman's help right now!" she urges, shaking his shoulders.

"Stop… _Stop it_!" he screams as he falls to his knees, obviously trying to fight off the crystal's influence. But his eyes are still glowing that eerie blue - an indication of just how badly he is probably losing control.

Meanwhile, one of the crystal robots avoids Clark entirely as it lunges at Lois, its jagged arm extended to impale her. Luckily, she manages to roll to the side just in time, and backs farther away from her attackers, hoping that distance will buy sufficient time for Clark to come to his senses.

She struggles to maintain her balance on the slippery floor, and her heart is hammering inside of her chest with fear. Sure, Lois has faced death a multitude of times, but never at the hands of something as… strange… as crystal robots from Krypton. Enemies like these are usually Superman's area of expertise, and right now, Superman is not their target - Lois is. And she'll admit it. With her current odds of surviving, and the robots closing in on her, she's _terrified_.

"I… won't… I _won't_, damn you," Clark grits out, talking to some unseen assailant. And then, with a mighty yell, he pounds his fist into the ground. The force of the blow shakes the entire fortress, and spider-web cracks creep along the crystals' surfaces. Clark, meanwhile, breathes heavily as he lifts his head to reveal his eyes - normal eyes (or for him, as normal as Kryptonian eyes can get) with an iris and a pupil and sections of white.

And then he is flying around the room, red light pouring out of those eyes as he cuts the crystal robots into pieces, ceasing their advance. The heat avoids her completely, but Lois can still _feel_ the inferno his vision produces, like air from an open oven, as it sweeps through the room.

Unfortunately, just when Lois and Clark think the robots are incapacitated, they resiliently begin forming again. She suspects that there is no way to stop them - every time they go down, they'll probably come right back up.

"Lois, hold on tight! I'm getting you out of here!" he calls to her, immediately flying in her direction. He has evidently predicted the futility of their situation as well, and soon enough, he has scooped her into his arms and is swooping toward the door, his hand outstretched to activate its opening mechanism.

But as he presses his fingers against the panel, the door does not budge.

"What's going on?" Lois demands.

"I don't know!" Clark exclaims. "It's supposed to work!"

"_Ahjah awuhkh, Kal-El_," Lois then hears the computer blare in an urgent tone. "_Krypton nim zhehiodia chao jor vot dokhahsh. Ewuhsh voiehd udolzrhygahs Earth zrhaorrahs nahn dokhahsh wis fah rraop_."

Clark's head swivels around to glare at the console, his arm tightening around Lois. From here, the device protruding from the floor - the one that he called a "_Phantom Projector_" - seems to glow a little bit, but Lois wonders if it is just her imagination.

But a glance at Clark reveals that whatever the computer console just said… must have been taken personally. His expression is clearly upset and offended, like someone freshly insulted in the worst of ways.

When he responds, his words come out as a near snarl.

"Rraop nahn jolum. Khahp zhindif shovuhi - zhindif thronivi - Earth."

Then, he turns to Lois, his eyes nearly desperate. "Hold onto me, and brace yourself."

She does as he asks, and as she grips him tightly, she can feel his muscles tense. He manages to hold her steady as he strikes the wall of crystals with an incredible amount of force - force unlike anything Lois has ever truly experienced before. She wonders if that is the sort of force he used to defeat Mongul, and suppresses the urge to gape in wonderment. So much strength… contained in one person… how is it even possible?

Naturally, the crystals can do nothing but shatter, leaving an opening large enough for them to fit through and escape.

And then they are flying - flying fast enough to make the average plane jealous, but not so fast that the wind is too much for her body to bear. Of course, Clark blocks most of that wind with his cape, which he has draped around her - much like he had wrapped the crystal, two days ago. He doesn't talk for the entire flight back - not that she could hear much anyway, at this altitude.

Eventually, they are back in Metropolis, landing on the roof of their apartment building. He gently sets her feet down on the concrete, but doesn't necessarily let her go. Even though she is standing upright, his arms are still wrapped around her, clutching her closely. He pulls her so close to him that she can yet again feel the beat of his heart - but this time those beats are panicked and angry. _Guilty_, even.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes in anguish. "I almost _lost_ you - over one stupid decision. I should've known that you bringing you there would be too dangerous… I should have-"

She shushes him, trying to keep him from blaming himself. Right now, everything that just happened is a bit of a blur, it occurred so fast. But she is certain that it is not his fault. She _decided_ to visit that fortress with him, regardless of the risks. It was _not_ his fault.

"Obviously there was some sort of glitch in the system," Lois asserts. "How could you have known about it?"

Clark sighs. "I don't think it was a glitch."

"What do you mean?"

"The computer…it told me that 'Earth culture is beneath me.' And then…"

"And then what?"

Clark's expression seems like that of someone tasting something sour. "It told me to _end my sin.'_ And since it only started reacting when I was interacting with you, I can only take it to mean-"

"That it wants you to end your Earth relationships, starting with the interspecies one between us?" Lois fills in, continuing his words for him in a small voice. And it's certainly odd, mentioning that their relationship is an 'interspecies' one. Sometimes Clark seems so undeniably human that it's impossible to think of him as anything otherwise. When he's with her… he seems _especially_ human.

But they are different, aren't they? Genetically different in the extreme, even if humans and Kryptonians look almost physically identical. If anything, the recent display of Clark's immense powers proved that quite clearly.

But she supposes nothing is more confused by Clark's choice of company than the Kryptonian fortress.

Right now, Clark looks exceptionally bitter as he says, "Lois… is my culture - the legacy of my people - defined by a superiority complex and an inability to accept differences? Because I love _Earth_ \- and I love you - and if Kryptonians can only see that as a '_sin'..._ then I don't _want_ to be Kryptonian."

"Well, you're not just Kal-El, the Kryptonian. You're also Clark Kent, the Kansas farmboy, and Superman, the American icon. I don't think you could possibly fit into any sort of umbrella term or stereotype, Smallville. Don't let this 'Eradicator program' crap bug you. I love you. Humanity loves you. And your parents clearly loved you, if they sent you off to survive here."

In the subsequent moments of silence, he seems to be considering her words as he affectionately brushes her cheek with his thumb. There is intense concentration in his features, as if he is memorizing the feeling of her skin to replace an unpleasant memory. The nervousness in his face fails to ease, which leads her to believe that something else, something far more important, has gone wrong.

"Clark," she begins, "that damn computer didn't say anything else, did it?"

His expression darkens further. "It said… 'Krypton will be alive and new through the phantoms.' I...I don't know exactly what it means. But I didn't like it one bit."

Neither does Lois. Krypton is gone, isn't it? How could it be 'alive and new?' And even if that was somehow possible… what exactly would phantoms have to do with it?

* * *

"You were right," Lois says suddenly. Her cheek is leaning against Clark's bare chest as they lay in bed together, snuggled under the covers. The lights are off, indicating that they were prepared to sleep, but after today's events, rest somehow remains elusive to both of them - especially to Clark, who got his fair share of shut-eye after the crystal went off in the Arctic.

It's rather comforting, however, that Clark's nightmares have ended. The crystal fulfilled its programming, so from what Clark understands, its signals should not bother him further while he sleeps.

Unfortunately, now the crystal wants him to fulfill its horrific Eradicator imperative - which he will not think about, or facilitate. Now that he knows what the crystal does, and how it affects him, he is confident that he can shake its influence. It most certainly is not powerful enough to turn him against Earth or its inhabitants. He is stronger than that. Even in his dreams.

Nonetheless, at first opportunity, he resolves to head back to that "fortress" (as Lois calls it) to see if he can reprogram the crystal's prerogatives.

"What did you say?" he asks Lois softly, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. It's not often that Lois admits that she is wrong about something - mostly because she isn't wrong often, and she's beautifully stubborn even when she is - so he figures that he heard her incorrectly, even with his super-senses.

"You were right, Clark," she tells him, much to his surprise. "About Lex. I was… ignoring what he was. Out of gratitude. But that was wrong. It went against everything that I stood for, and though I love you, and I'm grateful that he saved you… I can't let that stop me from stopping _him_."

"You're thinking about Lex while you're cuddling with me?" Clark asks jokingly. "Should I be jealous?"

She snorts. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just...I've been thinking about the last year a lot. I remember when I was in the hospital after that Kari Pope arms deal. During my stay, Lex came to visit. He made this...declaration of love, and tried to explain to me how his actions were for the greater good."

Carefully, Clark replies "Did you tell him off?"

"Not at first. I think that's what scary about him, you know? How he can make so much sense to me sometimes. Makes me wonder if deep down… we're the same."

Clark places a hand under her chin and lightly points it upward, so that she is looking at him - into his eyes. He hopes that she can still see him, despite the darkness.

"You're not," he tells her seriously. "Not in any way, shape, or form."

"But that's _you,_ Clark. You only see the best in people. I don't think you're even capable of _seeing_ the things that are wrong with me, inside and out."

"There's nothing wro-"

"You're only proving my point," she interrupts. "And regardless, this is something that I need to prove to myself. I've lost sight of parts of who I am. The parts of me that promised Lex that I would _take him down _for all of his crimes. There can't be anymore of this - of this needless endangerment of lives, so that he can advance himself, and no one else. We have to stop it."

Clark laughs under his breath rather quietly, but Lois still hears it. In response, she asks: "What? Do I sound ridiculous?"

"Not at all," he replies. "It's just…"

"'It's just' what?"

"I think I'm in love with you, Lois Lane," he tells her, wrapping his arm firmly around her back.

"Funny, Smallville. But this isn't just a half-assed, New-Year's-resolution-level promise here, Clark. If I do this...if _we_ do this - investigate him again, I mean - then your identity will be seriously endangered. Everyone we've ever met will be at risk. Your parents. Lana. My sister. Our friends at the Planet."

"And you, Lois," he adds with concern.

"And _you_, Clark" she also continues. "Lex knows who you are, and keeps a stash of deadly weapons that includes, but is not limited to, several tons of Kryptonite. And who knows who could get caught in crosshairs, if he decides to act against us. We're playing with a lot of lives..."

"You're right," Clark agrees. "But we're also endangering a lot of _other_ lives by doing _nothing_, when we have the capability to do _something_. We can't allow ourselves to place the lives of our personal friends above the lives of the many."

She nods. "...I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with it."

"Lois, you told me that you'd always believe in me. That goes both ways. Always. So where do you plan to start with this story?"

"To start?" she repeats. "Well, I think there's a loose end we've never addressed. Blonde hair. Bad attitude. Eager to shoot eavesdroppers."

"Kari Pope?" Clark answers for her, easily following her thinking. "She went off the map, didn't she? I was never able to find her after that night. As much as I hate to say it, it's pretty likely that Lex killed her."

"Maybe. But if we can still find her, then that misfortune could work in our favor, so long as we can connect Lex to the murder. But if she's _not_ dead, then she could be a veritable little goldmine of information."

"And where do you propose we start looking for her?"

Lois rolls over so that she is directly on top of Clark, her face leaning over his. "Give me some time to think it over," she orders. "But until then-"

"We can hope Wayne strikes gold with the Lexcorp lawsuit?"

Lois snorts. "Interesting prospect. But hey, who knows what'll happen when two sets of _billion dollar lawyers _go head to head?"

"A very, very long lawsuit, I assume. At least until a settlement is reached."

"A settlement won't put Lex behind bars, though."

"True. You better get on that Kari Pope lead, then."

"Hey, I'll _cover_ it. Lois Lane always gets her man. Speaking of which..."

He smirks as he interrupts her, relatively sure that he's reading her expression pretty well, even in the dark. "It's not like we're getting much sleep right now, anyway…"

"My thoughts exactly, Smallville."

He catches her lips in a kiss and rolls over, taking her with him.

* * *

When the morning light starts streaming through the windows, Clark gently disentangles himself from both Lois and the sheets. After stretching, he stands up and approaches the chair in the corner of the room, where he carelessly tossed his Superman costume the night before.

Last night was literally the best sleep he has experienced in a long time (when they eventually and actually fell asleep, that is). And while it would be preferable for him to lay in bed for several more hours, Clark knows that he should attend to the problems in the fortress before heading to work at the Daily Planet.

Lois wakes slightly when he gets up, grasping blindly for him in the half-empty bed. Soon enough, she realizes that he is no longer present and moans: "mmm...Clark...?"

"I'm here," he whispers back, tugging on the pants of his costume as he hops back toward the bed. Lois likes to call them tights, but they're not… they're just tight _on him_.

In an attempt to block out the sunlight, she turns her head so that she is face-down on the pillow. Thus, when she talks, her petulant voice comes out muffled.

"Ugh...You better come back to bed right now…or I'm gonna… gonna..."

He smiles with amusement. "You're gonna what? Yell at me? You do that already."

Clark sees her briefly glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It reads 6:00 a.m., which is a bit before they usually get up in the morning. Of course, there are those rare instances when early disasters require Superman's attention, on which Lois sometimes reports. But right now the city is mostly quiet, and he knows that he should take advantage of the calm.

"Do you have any idea how freaking early it is?" she asks as he pulls on the top portion of the costume, which sheathes his chest in the S shield that has become one of Metropolis's favorite symbols. The cape falls around his shoulders and hangs by his ankles like a heavy, red curtain. Its weight has grown familiar to him, like a part of his own body.

"You usually get up in an hour. So it's not _that_ early. Plus, I was trying to get dressed quietly - you're the one who decided to make a loud fuss."

"Because if it was something life or death, you'd be changed and gone by now," she points out. "But instead you're here, dawdling, which means that you don't _really_ want to go where you're going, but _think_ that you should."

"Ooooh. Good investigative reporting there, Miss Lane. I suppose you'd recommend that I just climb back into bed with you instead?"

"Yup. Seems like the most productive way to spend our time."

Smiling broadly, Clark sits down on the mattress so that he can kiss the top of Lois's head. In the moment that he does, she shifts her head so that it ends up being a quick kiss on the lips. Which means that she's trying to be convincing...and doing very well at it, he can admit. But he should - he must - go fix the mess that he (and Lex, in many ways) created.

"I want to stay; trust me." His smile fades. "But it's bad enough that I left the fortress in that sorry state, especially when…"

"-it's spouting anti-human, bigoted bullshit?" she finishes for him bluntly.

Clark mockingly suppresses a cringe at the swearword. "Cranky, much? You know what I said about children and swearing."

She snorts. "Sorry, Smallville. It's early. Forgot about your 'no-swearing' rule."

"It's just unnecessary, is all."

"Well, there are no children around, unless you're hiding something from me."

With another peck on her cheek, Clark stands up again and walks toward the window, fully outfitted in the Superman costume. "Lucky for you, I just x-rayed the room, and I can confidently say that there are no kids around."

"Good. Then I can start swearing more often."

"Well, I'd _prefer_ if you didn't."

Her face becomes exaggeratedly contemplative. "I _suppose_ I could clean up my language. You're lucky I have a soft spot for blue-eyed aliens who can shoot lasers from their eyes."

Clark opens the window, but before he climbs out of it, he spins around and says: "Speaking of _shooting_… did you figure out how we're gonna track down Kari Pope?"

"I could always seduce Lex into revealing her location," she jokes.

"So could I, but we should probably try a more wholesome route."

"It's still a bit early, to be honest. And I'm still thinking…but _Christ_...there has to be way to take him down…and I feel like Kari Pope is the key."

"Well," he replies, throwing himself out of the window, "tell me when you figure it out!"

* * *

Clark shouldn't have stayed home.

By God, he shouldn't have stayed home.

Even when he's several hundred miles away from the Arctic, he can see what has gone wrong. So he puts on extra speed as he flies, barely feeling the way that the temperatures drop, the farther North he travels. All he can recognize is that he is made a humongous mess - one that he doesn't even _understand_. And maybe he _needed_ those moments of domestic peace with Lois… but that doesn't mean he had a right to take them. Not right now, anyway. (He worries that he may never have a right to take them.)

Upon arriving in the Arctic, he is greeted by a sight unlike anything he has ever seen.

The fortress still rests on top of a glacier, glinting in the sunlight like the alien monument that it is. But Clark is far more worried by what is in the sky.

There are swirling, glowing blue portals, each suspended in several spots above and around the fortress. One of them sits over the ocean, while the other two rest above the snow. Clark's vision reveals that they are made from a Kryptonian energy - one unlike anything that he can comprehend. It is a spectrum he can detect, but is unable to make sense of. The inside of the portals are made of a sort of… non-matter, if that makes sense. There's something that _looks_ like matter, but somehow doesn't have any substance at all.

How these portals got to be here, Clark doesn't know. He also doesn't know how long they have been here, or to what they lead.

Clark lands in front of the fortress entrance, expecting to find it still in its shattered state. But such is not the case. Its walls are as intact as when he first woke up inside of them. Obviously, the fortress is able to recreate itself quite readily.

He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

The doors still open at his touch, and he heads straight to the computer, trying to ignore the chills that the Fortress gives him. In his mind, he is still reluctant to be here - especially if the computer is so insistent that he cut all his ties to humanity. It might as well ask him to cut off his limbs - which would not only cause emotional difficulty, but may also present a physical impossibility.

"_End this sin_," that same computer recently told him in Kryptonese. "_Earth culture is far beneath you. Krypton will be alive and new through the phantoms_."

The device that he has come to know as the Phantom Projector is glowing so brightly that he resists the urge to shield his eyes. It has created little veins of light that extend throughout the crystals in the fortress, leading Clark to believe that the Projector is the source of the portals outside. Logically, it makes sense - the energies from the device must conduct through the crystals, allowing large-scale portals to be made and maintained.

But as he tries to consider the science of the Projector, his mind still travels back to his recent problems here.

"_You're wrong!_" he said in response to the computer's cold words. "_I will always love - always protect - Earth._"

He meant every Kryptonian word he uttered. And now he will have to use a few more.

"Computer!" Clark orders in Kryptonese. "Turn off the projector immediately!"

"Are you sure, Kal-El? You gave the authorization for its activation only a few hours ago," it informs him in a monotonous voice, its holographic screen glowing and blaring.

Knitting his eyebrows together, Clark says, "I did no such thing. You're acting of your own volition - infringing on my orders and directions. It ends now! Tell me how to reprogram you!"

"This system is operating in prioritized parameters. The protection of Kryptonian culture outweighs user input, unless otherwise specified by the user. Without direct reprioritization, contamination of the fortress by the presence of a lower-level life-form had to be dealt with according to the Eradicator protocols, and user input took second precedence. Meanwhile, the activation of the projector was, in fact, done on user command."

"They're not _lower-level life-forms_, okay? They're people. And I never commanded you to activate the Projector."

"Your biological readings suggested that you felt a coital attraction toward the lower-level life-form. The system was obligated to act, fearing that your time on this planet has afflicted your cognitive abilities, and that further contamination would ensue if no action was taken."

Clark blushes beet red and resists the urge to be embarrassed. He's not ashamed of his relationship with Lois, but he _is_ ashamed that this computer was watching his bodily functions… especially those _particular_ bodily functions… so closely.

"Secondly," the computer continues, "you gave clear instructions to activate the projector. The system adhered to the following instructions…"

The holographic screen suddenly pulls up a strip of audio, recorded from only a few hours ago. Immediately, Clark is able to recognize his own voice.

"-_I would have preferred to learn about Krypton from someone actually from there_..." Briefly, the sound of the audio fast-forwarding fills the air, before more of his words are replayed. "..._I should try to open the door-_"

"Those were taken out of context!" Clark yells in anger. "And they were said in English - meaning that they weren't meant for you!"

"You ordered these systems to learn and utilize the English language, Kal-El. It's possible that the meaning behind your words was misconstrued, given this system's novice understanding of the-"

"But why would you think that the portals would help me learn about Krypton?" Clark muses, more to himself to the computer. But as he considers that thought, he realizes the answer, and his eyes widen. "Computer… are there Kryptonian beings in the Phantom Zone? Living ones?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"The Phantom Zone was created in secret by the Kryptonian council - known only by members of that council, and its creator, Jor-El. It is where the worst intergalactic criminals are stored, never to be retrieved - except by using a Projector, of course."

"Criminals?" Clark repeats, suddenly panic-stricken. "Oh God...Close the portals _now_! That's an order of highest priority."

"Reprioritization accepted. Portals are closing."

At this command, the light from the Projector dies down, as do the circuits of light extending throughout the crystals.

Clark doesn't exactly trust this computer anymore - and with good reason. It has already acted of its own accord far too many times. Thus, instead of simply accepting the computer's statements as truth, Clark uses his superspeed to fly outside. He wants to make sure the portals are closing - with his own eyes.

As he floats above the glacier, the wind whipping his cape, he witnesses the giant, swirling portals grow smaller and smaller, until they are each hardly larger than a car.

It is then that Clark is alerted to an odd sound - one that he initially thought was the roar of the wind. But now, upon listening closer, he realizes something else entirely - someone is yelling. And that someone's voice… is coming from one of the portals.

He squints at the portal in question, and soon enough, he can see some sort of figure approaching from this odd, non-matter dimension. The person's cries are anguished - dripping with desperation and fear, though the language is warbled. It is only with strained ears and new Kryptonian language skills that Clark can make out the words.

"Please!" the person is yelling in Kryptonese. "Do not leave me here!"

Clark has been told that this Phantom Zone holds criminals. He _should_ stop whatever is trying to come through the portal. But the voice sounds so pained… so fearful… so human, that he hesitates. Besides...this person...whoever he may be… he or she is from Krypton. And to know someone who can tell Clark about his heritage… wouldn't that be worthwhile?

He spends so much time considering his options, and considering what is the right course of action is, that he misses his chance to act. Soon enough, the figure is tearing through the portal, and the only thing Clark can do is catch him as the man plummets toward the ground, flightless.

As the man falls into Clark's arms, he looks at his rescuer, stunned. This person is utterly unfamiliar to Clark - he has a rugged, bearded face, with dark brown hair and tired ice-blue eyes. But in those eyes - and in that face - is also obvious recognition. He gapes at Clark like he is some sort of ghost, and not the welcome kind either. Given his expression, one would think that Clark is the ghost of some past nightmare, returned to haunt him. A nightmare that has suddenly gained the incredible power to fly, no less.

"Jor-El?" the man gasps.

Clark is taken aback. This stranger knows his father's name?

But then the man's eyes slide toward the sun, like it is some sort of great beacon demanding his attention. He appears to revel in its rays before he falls unconscious.

The portals close completely, leaving Clark wondering whether anyone else has come through, and whether or not she should have let this interloper enter Earth in the first place.

_TBC_...

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO OR DC COMICS RELATED**

**A/N: I'm exhausted from work and studying and exercise, so I didn't have the mental capacity to thoroughly check this over for technical errors. Please excuse any that you find.**

**I'm going to sleep. Hope you enjoyed and please review!**


	45. Chapter Eleven - Zod

_CHAPTER ELEVEN - ZOD_

Clark deposits the man on a table made of crystal, which the fortress so conveniently formed for him, upon his reentry. Now, he is able to examine this strange being even closer, and perhaps consider his options even further.

The man's clothes are torn, like he has been attacked by some wild animal - repeatedly even. His facial hair is unkempt, similar to that of someone who has been living in the wilderness for an extended period of time. And at the top of his head are goggles that are so unique in design that Clark doubts that he has seen anything like them before. Overall, there seems to be something otherworldly in his appearance, but not in the way that one might expect from an alien. He is otherworldly in the way that a caveman from another era might look, with a language and impression that is beyond modern comprehension.

Turning away from the unconscious form lying still on that table, Clark approaches the computer console with a troubled expression.

"Computer… who is this? And why is he here?"

"Escapee is identified as Dru-Zod II. For nearly twenty-seven years now, he has been imprisoned in the Phantom Zone for his criminal activities."

"So the Phantom Zone did these things to him?" Clark remarks quietly, referring to the battered, savage state of the man's body. "Then what kind of awful place is the Phantom Zone, for its inhabitants to suffer like this?"

"The Phantom Zone is where living things can come to no bodily harm - they exists as incorporeal beings in a plain of nothingness, where they can interact with nobody and nothing else but themselves. Prisoners do not even age or feel illness."

Clark scratches his chin. "Wait...you're saying that Phantom Zone prisoners can only interact with themselves - as in physical touching and movement?"

"Correct."

"So his torn clothes...his battered body… he did those things to _himself_?"

"That seems to be the most logical conclusion."

Clark gulps. "What exactly...did Dru-Zod do… to get sentenced to the Phantom Zone?"

The computer pauses as it retrieves the proper data. Then, it is soon reciting, "Dru-Zod was the elected leader of Krypton's military for many years. When it was discovered that Krypton's core was at risk of spontaneous collapse, Zod vocally condemned the Science Council's inability to decide on a viable evacuation plan. Eventually Zod attempted a coup that turned violent. He was tried with treason and sentenced accordingly by being sent into the Phantom Zone. The executioner of his sentence was Jor-El, manager of the Phantom Zone."

"My _father_ sent him into the Phantom Zone?"

"Up until his sentence, Zod swore that he was trying to save Krypton through his actions. His prosecution remained an issue of controversy throughout the months leading to Krypton's destruction - yet another distraction to the Science Council."

Clark glances at Zod, who is still unconscious on the table. Before he passed out, Zod had referred to Clark as 'Jor-El,' his father's name. Lois did say that Clark looks just like his father. What if Zod becomes enraged when he sees Clark's face? What if he has just accidentally released an unstoppable Kryptonian criminal onto Earth's surface?

He doesn't know if he can take the risk.

God, he wants to know about Krypton. Wants to know about Krypton from someone who's been there _so_ badly. And more importantly, he doesn't know if he has the right to send someone who may very well be innocent, given the account that the computer gave, back into the Phantom Zone.

That dimension sounds like a hell - a barren universe filled with nothing but… nothingness. How could something like that be bearable? The clear answer is that it _can't_, as indicated by the way that Zod has torn himself up.

So once again… can Clark, in good conscience, send somebody back there, no matter how questionable that person's past is?

"Do you have further instructions, Kal-El?" the computer blares.

"Give me some time," Clark replies, staring at Zod again. "Because frankly...I don't know how to deal with this.."

* * *

"Lemme ask you a question, Lois," Perry asks Lois as she hands in another article at the Daily Planet that day. "Have you been poisoning your boyfriend?"

Lois pauses in confusion. "_What_? What kind of question is that?"

"A legitimate one."

"Of course I'm _not_ poisoning Clark. Are you kidding?"

"Half-kidding, to be honest. That boy seems to be taking a lot of sick days of late, and you keep capitalizing on the stories he misses. Can't help wondering if you're trying to eliminate the journalistic competition," Perry remarks as he glances over her typed pages. "Oi vey - and we need him here too. Otherwise, _I_ get stuck spell-checking your stuff, and I don't have the patience for that."

"You're literally the editor, Perry," Lois tells him. "It's your job to spell-check my articles."

He pointedly holds up the paper. "Have you seen these errors, Lois? You spelled 'downtown' with an 'e' at the end."

"That's how they do it in England. It's like when they add 'u' in colour, or 'e' in 'shoppe.'"

Perry closes his eyes and exhales heavily. "Lois, I think we both know that's not the case for 'downtown.'"

"How do you know? Are _you_ British?"

"Just get out of my office, Lane. And when the little red squiggly lines pop up on your computer? Yeah, those mean that you've spelled something wrong. _Again_."

"And I'll promptly ignore them."

"And I'll promptly fire you."

Lois snorts. "Good one, Perry." With that, she leaves the room and heads to her own office, her smile sliding off her face all the while. Clark has yet to come back from the fortress, so she had to claim that he had food poisoning _again_. There's only so many times they can make that excuse, and Lois thinks this fifth instance is wearing pretty thin.

Of course, it'd also be nice if Clark would tell her where he is, and why he hasn't come back yet. He made no indication that he'd be staying at the fortress this long. And now that he he hasn't returned, she's wondering if something has gone seriously wrong.

Lois takes out her phone and dials Clark's number. She hopes that she's not catching him at a bad time, like when he's trying to repair some sort of collapsing bridge. It's possible that he got caught up in saving the world _again_, and lost track of time.

But Lois has plenty of faith in her abilities as a reporter, and if something major was happening, she would definitely know about it.

As she presses the phone to her ear, she chuckles slightly. She's probably the only person in the world who worries about interrupting her boyfriend's attempts to save the world. Their relationship is unique, to say the least.

* * *

Clark is still standing pensively at his computer console, with Zod unconscious nearby, when his phone vibrates. The phone, which is placed in his boot, is soon retrieved (it's not exactly an ideal place for it, given how many times he's been forced to replace the fragile device. It always shatters whenever Clark kicks something too hard). With it now in hand, he looks at the screen. Lois's picture, smiling and endearingly mocking, is displayed in full prominence, thus indicating that she is the caller.

It is then that he remembers that he actually had to go to work today. But between all the insanity here, up North, he completely forgot.

_God_, Perry's going to kill him. He's taken way too many sick days already, due to a variety of Superman-related emergencies. There are probably only two things that keep him hired, despite his apparent laziness: 1) even at his worst, Clark's still a better reporter than many of his coworkers, and 2) Perry's too worried about angering Lois, his star reporter, by firing him.

Of course, Lois may actually kill him herself, if she keeps having to cover for him like this.

He answers the call in a quiet voice, holding the mouthpiece close to his face to prevent sound from carrying to his recovering '_guest_.'

"Hello?"

"_Perry literally thinks that I'm poisoning you_," Lois tells him from the other line, her voice mildly irritated. "_And I might actually do so, if you're doing something Superman-y without telling me, considering that anything you do is news, and I report on the news-"_

"Superman-y?"

"_Superman-y_," she repeats. "_As in, saving the world or cats in trees or people about to be assassinated_."

"My current activities are far less glamorous," Clark informs her, briefly glancing at Zod before returning his visual attention to the console, where Zod's file is being projected for his reading pleasure. Or as much pleasure he can derive from a mix of terror, conflict, worry, pity, and guilt. "But I take it that you covered for me?"

"_Yup_."

"Thanks - I really appreciate it. You're the -"

"_Stop with the flattery_," she orders him. "_What are you doing? What's wrong? Are you still at the fortress_?"

"Unfortunately."

"_I take it you haven't fixed the computer's Terminator-esque personality yet?" _

"Oh no. I've more or less gotten that under control. But before I figured it out, the computer spewed a Kryptonian criminal out of the Phantom Zone - that alternate dimension thing we talked about - without my authorization."

Lois is silent for a few moments as she tries to make sense of his words.

"_Hold on… did you just say… it 'spewed out a Kryptonian?_'"

"Well...yes…"

"_Smallville, that's… that's _huge!" she stammers. "_Another Kryptonian - alive_?"

"Sort of alive," Clark clarifies. "Apparently the Phantom Zone was some sort of hell-prison used to store criminals. And the guy that the computer picked as my '_companion' _committed high treason on Krypton. So now he's here, unconscious, and I don't know what to do with him. I also have no idea what's wrong with him… I think that he's probably adjusting to the intense bombardment of Earth's solar rays, but I worry that it's something more serious."

There's another pause, and Clark can almost picture Lois spinning around, running her hands through her hair in that way she does when she _can't believe_ something.

"_Treason? What kind of treason_?"

"Does the type of treason matter?"

"_Well, maybe the laws were screwy on Krypton, and he was the only one with a conscience, so he broke them_-"

"According to the files, he incited a violent uprising, but whether he was wrong to do so is supposedly an issue of controversy. I don't know for sure what happened… but…"

Lois interrupts and easily finishes his train of thought.

"_-but he's from Krypton...and if his morals are even a _little _eskew, then we've just found ourselves with one hell of a super-powered problem. Clark… you have to send him back to wherever he came from_."

Her voice is serious. Sure. But Clark is far less certain. Not to mention that there is something else… another issue weighing on his conscience…

"Lois… my father sentenced him to a life in that hellish place. And for all I know, this man could've have been entirely innocent. How can I make this kind of judgement, and if my father was wrong, shouldn't I try to fix-?"

"_This guy's from Krypton. He worked there, lived there, for many years. And for that reason, he was held liable to Krypton's laws. As far as you're concerned, if they sentenced him to this 'Phantom Zone', then that's where he's supposed to be_."

"But I'm from Krypton too. Does that mean that I belong in the Phantom Zone as well, with the rest of my kind?"

"_You were on Krypton for a few days at most, before your parents sent you to Earth. Besides, you didn't break any of their laws as a baby - you weren't put in the Phantom Zone. Your story is unrelated to his. You didn't even know your father_."

"So you don't think the risk is worth it?" Clark asks, trying to suppress a twinge of misplaced bitterness. She's right, he knows. But it still feels wrong - judging this man before he even knows him properly.

"_No, Clark, I don't_," she asserts. "_I say send him back before he even realizes what happened to him. That way, no one gets hurt, including him. We can't have anyone less than _YOU _wielding your powers. Not on your scale of strength. I'm sorry_."

Clark sighs, and he is prepared to agree with her. He opens his mouth to speak, but then…

Then there is something around his neck, crushing his windpipe, rendering him unable to speak. Whatever it is… oh God… he's only felt strength like this once in his life. And that was when he was fighting Mongul.

His phone falls to the ground, shattering slightly, but still remaining operational. He can hear Lois worriedly calling his name on the other side, but Clark can only gasp and choke in response.

He struggles to turn his head, and when he does, he is somehow not entirely surprised at the sight greeting him, even if he is taken off guard by the strength of the attack.

Zod is standing behind him, his hands wrapped firmly around Clark's neck. There is fierce, enraged concentration clear in his features - anger etched into every bit of his lined, exhausted face. It may be possible… that he has never seen someone look so murderous in his life.

Clark knows that the Kryptonians do not need to breathe. He learned that fact from none other than Emil Hamilton, over a year ago. And if that's true, Zod's actions can only mean one thing.

Zod is trying to snap Clark's neck.

"I will _not_ go back," Zod snarls in Kryptonese, spit flying from his gritted teeth. "You cannot make me. I shall kill you first, _spawn_ of Jor-El."

Clark is just about to fight back, now that he has gotten his bearings, but before he can, Zod seems to realize that Clark is far too indestructible to kill. So then, he goes for the next best thing.

He takes Clark's head and smashes it into the floor. The crack of the impact resounds like a sonic boom, causing almost every crystal in the fortress to shatter from the shockwave. Meanwhile, white-hot pain flares in Clark's skull and behind his eyelids, causing his vision and senses go black.

As he falls unconscious, he barely has time to note how _ironic_ the role reversal is.

* * *

"I couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few minutes," Clark tells Lois worriedly. "But when I woke up, he was gone."

Clark is seated on the parapet on their apartment building's roof - resting in the precarious way that only a person who can fly is able to. If she didn't know better, Lois would worry that he would fall backwards toward the open air, and by extension, toward the sidewalk below. But he can catch himself so easily that such concerns must not even cross his mind.

The cape of his costume flaps outwards behind him, animated by the wind. Its proud, angelic look contrasts with his current appearance quite seriously. His shoulders are slouched, and he is staring at his hands, which are resting palm-up in his lap. His posture, overall, suggests intense shame. Shame that Lois knows that he does not deserve.

"Do you have any idea where he could've gone?" Lois asks, proceeding to sit beside him. Though she is marginally concerned about falling, she is also quite certain that he would catch her.

"None."

"But your senses-"

"Lois, my senses are powerful, yes. But there's so many sounds… so many sights to process - I can't search for him without knowing what I'm looking for."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, if it was a matter of finding _you_, I'd be fine," Clark explains to her. "I know the sound of your voice. And in many ways… the rhythm of your heartbeat too. And because I know what you sound like, it's easy for me to distinguish you from everyone else, and therefore, find you in a crowd."

Lois doesn't exactly know what to say to that. There's a part of her that finds his words strange, because they are so fantastical. He has memorized her heartbeat? How does one even do that? She is once again left wondering how it must be to be _him_ \- to hear and see everything, to have these incredible powers, despite an intense desire to be human.

"I hope that doesn't freak you out," Clark retracts suddenly, fearing that she is uncomfortable. "I mean, there are just certain people that I use as anchors. The sound of a voice or a heartbeat can keep me focused when the world gets too loud-"

"I get it Clark," Lois assures him. "You don't have to explain. I think it's actually kind of sweet."

His lips quirk upward in a brief smirk, but his worry still returns.

"But Zod _isn't_ speaking," he continues, "so I can't locate his voice. And I don't know him well enough to recognize his heartbeat."

He takes a deep breath, and releases an anguished groan before pressing his palms to his forehead.

"Dammit!" he yells, angrier than Lois has ever heard him. "How could I have been so stupid, Lois?"

"Clark-"

"And don't even say that I wasn't," he interrupts. "I should've sent Zod back the _second_ he came through. But now… now I've released someone with _my_ level of strength into the world. Someone who is willing to kill and hungry for power, if the files are any indication."

There are several moments of heavy silence before he speaks again.

"Lois… I might have just destroyed the world."

**_TBC..._**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO-RELATED**

**a/n: So many of you accurately guessed the phantom's identity. I probably should have made it more mysterious but *shrug* there'll be in enough mysteries in this series. **

**I'm currently reading _Lois Lane: Double Down_, which is an actual published young adult novel about a teenage Lois and I absolutely love it. Double Down is the sequel to the first book, _Fallout_. Of course, I'm incredibly jealous of the author, who gets PAID to write about Lois, but whatever. I highly recommend it. **

**Sorry if there are typos or errors. I had tons of exams this week and then a fancy party thing yesterday, so I was too exhausted to do a thorough check-over on this chapter.**

**Random thing: At the fancy schmancy party, I got to wear a dress that looked almost just like the one that Lois wore to the charity gala in _Hope I_. Or at least, it looked just like how I described it. And I made that dress up in my imagination, so needless to say, it was my dream dress. **

**Alrighty, see you soon! Hope you enjoyed, and please review. Also, if you find the chance, yell at me to finish writing this book because I still have like 6 chapters left the write and then I gotta start the next novel. **


	46. Chapter Twelve - Blindsided

_CHAPTER TWELVE - BLINDSIDED_

"_I'm reporting live in Beijing, where thousands of people have just witnessed some sort of UFO actually _collide _with an airplane over the city. Authorities still have not yet released official statements about the disaster, but the pilots on board reportedly saw what seemed to be a _man fly _into the plane_."

A grim-looking reporter stands outside of a Chinese airport as emergency vehicles surround the building and flash their glaring lights. The beams paint the news footage in red and blue oscillating colors, giving the reporter a somewhat garish quality.

The woman is displayed on a television in the Daily Planet break room. Usually, Lois rarely watches new shows, considering how she _breaks_ most global news stories and leaves the televised stations in the dust. But right now, this event is too far away for her to cover, so she can only follow the story as it develops for other reporters.

"_That's incredible, Maya_," one of the newscasters says from the studio. "_A flying man? Because far as we know, there's only one person who can do that_."

The woman pauses in that way that live reporters always do, and then continues to speak.

"_According to our reports, Superman actually had an alibi. He was visiting a children's hospital in Metropolis at the exact time of the collision. He did, however, leave that prior engagement to save the plane, thus averting disaster. And even without an alibi, the Man of Steel would be seriously doubted as a suspect. The pilots described a man that looked very different from Superman. Here's a photo drawn by a sketch artist…_"

A roughly penciled depiction of a rugged man wearing goggles and tattered clothes is flashed on the screen. Lois approaches the screen of the television to better examine the picture.

So this is Zod… The other remaining Kryptonian…

The sketch is probably not very accurate, she knows. It was derived from the pilots' accounts, and it's unlikely that they got a particularly clear look. But she feels like there is something significant in this moment when she (somewhat) sees him for the first time.

It seems like she and Clark go from one crisis to another. First, it was the nightmares keeping Clark awake and worried. Now, he spends half his time at night searching for Zod.

If anything, it has been a cat-and-mouse game for a month. Zod is often spotted doing something inconspicuous - and occasionally destructive, like with the recent plane crash. But as soon as Clark arrives to catch him, he is always long gone - completely disappeared. And it's not like Clark can predict where he will arrive. Zod's appearances are always random… always in populated places. It worries him to no end.

"_One thing's for sure. We should be grateful to the Man of Steel for the lack of casualties today."_

"They shouldn't be thanking me," a familiar voice says from the doorway behind Lois.

She turns to see Clark, whose hair is all disarrayed - an indication of a recent flight as Superman. He must have just returned from Beijing. Lois can tell from his expression, which is filled with frustration and regret. It does soften, however, when he meets her gaze.

He places the hat that he normally wears as _Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter_ on his head, effectively hiding any suggestion of his recent activities.

"If it wasn't for me," he continues as he joins her near the kitchenette, "there wouldn't have been a plane crash in the first place."

"Zod crashed the plane, not you," Lois points out.

"But I released Zod."

"Your _computer_ released Zod."

"And I activated the computer."

"Unintentionally, because Lex forced you to activate the crystal that made the computer."

He sighs. "I can't keep shuffling the blame around, Lois."

Lois points at his chest. "And _you_ can't accept blame for everything. Listen, Mister, you spend most of your time saving lives, and when you're not doing that, you're helping people by reporting the news. The only crime you've committed is being _too caring_. You were trying to be kind to Zod, and honestly, if he hadn't heard me telling you to send him back to the Phantom Zone, he probably wouldn't have run off. So technically, everyone and everything is a little bit to bla-"

He leans down and cuts her off with a kiss.

When he releases her, Lois exhales shakily and says. "Y'know, I was kinda hoping you'd do that."

"No wonder why you talk so much," he jokes, though his tone is somewhat flattened by an undertone of worry that, nowadays, never quite seems to go away. "You expect me to kiss you every time you start rambling."

"There are very few ways to get me to shut up. You kissing me, however, is one of the few."

Clark chuckles as places his hands on her waist. "Well, now you're just causing me conflict. Because I really do love the sound of your voice."

Suddenly, Jimmy shuffles into the room, looking bleary-eyed from the morning's exhaustion. He reaches numbly for a coffee cup on the counter before throwing a sideways, suspicious glance at Lois and Clark.

"Are you guys making out in the break room _again_?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"That's none of your business," Lois reminds him in an authoritative voice.

"I'm pretty sure Perry banned you two from making out in the break room."

Though she pretends not to, the distinctly remembers Perry doing so after one time when Clark missed one of his deadlines as a result of her distracting him in this very room - it goes without saying that Perry was not very pleased with his best but oh-too-easily-distracted reporters. But she figures that the so-called 'ban' was not serious - because frankly, there's not much Perry can do if Lois decides to make out with Clark in the break room. She's responsible for half of their internet hits and sold copies.

"Speaking of Perry but ignoring that last comment," Lois digresses, turning back to Clark but stepping out of his grasp, "You've been assigned to interview the guy who's running against Mayor Berkowitz."

"Oooh, a new candidate," Jimmy sing-songs. "Maybe the city will actually have some funds for once, with Embezzlement Berkowitz out of office."

"Unlikely, Jimmy," Clark says with disdain. "This 'new blood' made his fortune laundering money into casinos. He's a crook - and in office, he'd be a Boss Tweed incarnate."

Lois interrupts: "Which is why you should -"

"Write the puff piece on the election, get him grateful enough to talk openly with me about stuff he _shouldn't_, and then use that information to follow his money trail back to its dirty roots. Got it." Clark raises an eyebrow at Lois. "Care to share a byline?"

Lois clicks her tongue. "I'd love to, Smallville, but apparently a goat-sacrificing cult has gained popularity in Bakerline, and _both_ local butchers and animal rights activists are up in arms - which is an intriguing team-up, to say the least. Plus, I've got to follow up on a story at the docks. Bibbo gave me a tip about a sailor who's been participating in illegal human trafficking. I've been tailing the guy for days, but I'm still waiting on proof."

"Well...are you sure Bibbo's right?"

"Between the feeling in my gut, which I always trust, the missing persons in the general area, and my faith in Bibbo Bibbowski, I'm plenty sure. And I've got a good feeling about today in terms of the proof thing."

She pecks Clark on the cheek and then twirls around to face Jimmy. "Get your camera, Olsen. Nothing says front page like pictures of sacrificial goats and scuzzy seabirds that are soon-to-be jailbirds."

"Just be safe, okay?" Clark calls to her.

"You know me, Clark. I've never been one to play it safe," Lois calls back as she leaves the room, Jimmy jogging to follow her.

* * *

Lois is dreaming pleasantly with Clark's arms around her. In her sleeping state, the rise and fall of his chest are like the soft waves of a calm ocean. Unlike the ocean, however, everything about him is always so...warm - but never to the point of excess heat, of course. It's more like… whenever she's with him… it's almost impossible to be cold, literally or metaphorically.

But then she feels him move underneath her, pulling away, leaving her skin isolated and icy. In her grogginess, she grasps for him like someone may grasp for a missing blanket - even though, if she were conscious, she would know that she shouldn't. Because that would only cause him guilt, knowing that he is leaving her when she so clearly wants him here.

"I'm sorry… but I swear it's important," she vaguely registers him whispering. "It's Zod."

She has heard that name far too many times.

Then there's the brush of lips along the side of her face, a gust of wind, and a remarkably cold bed left in his wake.

He always takes the warmth with him when he goes. But she'd never be selfish enough to claim it all for herself, even just for the night.

* * *

For weeks, it is the same. Zod appears. Gets spotted. Makes a mess. And then leaves before Clark can properly react.

Since the appearances seemingly serve no purpose but the creation of chaos, Clark figures that the cat-and-mouse game is meant to accomplish two goals for Zod: for him to discover his own powers, and for him to discover Clark's strengths as well. Such motive is evident in the way that Zod will fly over a city, listen intently, and then do something destructive: like test out his heat vision in brief bursts, or tear apart airplanes with his bare hands. And sometimes, when Clark attempts to save lives after Zod's attacks, or even during unrelated rescues, Clark will swear that he's being watched by some sort of fast-moving, dark figure. But his concentration is always too focused elsewhere, so he can never verify this suspicion.

Regardless, Zod's disregard for human life in the use of his abilities is disturbing, to say the least. It's only a matter of time before Zod really hurts someone, or does something particularly destructive.

Nonetheless, his pattern remains relatively constant for a while. Until one day. One day the pattern changes - and in a way, if it is possible, that is even less to Clark's liking.

For the first time in a few days, Clark decides to travel to the fortress to check in on matters there, and to examine Zod's files yet again. Perhaps there is something that he missed - a talking point that can allow them to resolve matters peacefully, and if that fails, a weakness that he can exploit.

So after clocking-in at the Daily Planet, submitting the article that'll indict Mr. new mayoral candidate, and kissing Lois goodbye, he is on his way.

But as he approaches the fortress, he finds it in disarray. Its exterior is shattered in many places, like someone - or something - has been beating against it repeatedly. Then, in the very center, is a gaping hole that seems to be torn _through_ the crystals.

This destruction is most certainly not from a previous event. The crystals repaired themselves after Zod's last attack on Clark, thus leaving them intact - intact, that is, until this day.

Clark stares at the damage with perplexity for a few moments, trying to determine a cause. But then… with great alarm... he realizes that this mess has been left for him. Like every other piece of destruction. And given how direct this attack on the fortress is, this must be an ambush. An ambush by Zod.

Unfortunately, that realization comes a second too late.

A dark figure is soon lunging from inside the fortress, and he - Zod - soon has Clark trapped in a headlock. As much as Clark struggles, there is something odd about this stance - something that suggests that this hold, whatever it may be, is military in origin, and seems designed to use Clark's _own_ strength to keep himself trapped.

"Activate the Projector!" Zod hisses in Kryptonese. "I command you, as a highest-ranking military officer on Krypton, to release your prisoners!"

"Maybe...if you… nngghh...asked nicely!" Clark resists, fierce exertion in his voice. And then, with the greatest strength available in his muscles, he throws Zod off of himself. Despite everything, Clark's exposure to sunlight over these 26 years has given him greater physical power. Zod's power may be incredible, but it still has a lot of catching up to do.

But Zod has something that Clark is lacking: rage. Ferocious, bitter, concentrated rage. Toward Jor-El, his jailer; toward humanity, for not fitting his Kryptonian ideal; and toward Clark, for being related to Jor-El.

Even though he is thrown so forcefully that he goes airborne, Zod chooses to catch himself with his flying abilities, and proceeds to float. His glare is so icy that Clark experiences a shiver that has nothing to do with the Arctic weather.

"You don't understand what I'm trying to do, do you?" Zod snarls. "I'm trying to _save_ Krypton."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Clark argues, rising off the snow to meet Zod in confrontation. "Krypton is gone. You know that, right? There's nothing left to save of it. So if you'd just calm down, we could talk, and I could explain what's happened to-"

"Gone? I _know_ that our planet is dust; we all knew before our capture, because Jor-El had a fair warning that he refused to act on, the monster," Zod spits. "He told me Krypton was doomed too. Beyond saving, he said. He was so eager to give up, I thought. I thought he was disappointed in us as a species, and that was why he so apathetically let us _die_."

His glare toward Clark increases in intensity and focus. "But apparently he was lying. Because he saved you, and only you - his son. There is no excuse for his selfishness, especially since his actions have created a simpering, weak fool such as yourself. But _you _still have the opportunity to right his wrongs - for you to become a better man."

"Wrongs?" Clark repeats sarcastically. "Like trying to murder people? Because as far as I know, that's your forte, not his."

Zod looks at Clark with confusion. "People? You think these Earth insects are _people_? Your mind has truly been polluted by this place, hasn't it?" Zod flies a bit closer to Clark, his voice changing in tone slightly - perhaps to seem pleading, but failing miserably, as it still comes out as a snarl. "The rest of your people - your _real_ people - are trapped inside your father's hell-hole. The Phantom Zone."

"It's not my place to release those prisoners," Clark argues.

"You released me, you cowardly-"

"I never meant to do that! The computer did it against my wishes!"

"Your computer?" Zod repeats. "I've explored your fortress now. And _that_ computer is encoded to your DNA, meaning that no one can operate the Projector but you - and you are unworthy of such a privilege. Regardless, you must order it to release my soldiers. This place can be the place of Krypton's rebirth. We shall eliminate the human insects, and repopulate-"

"I won't play God like that, Zod," Clark yells. "Krypton's time is over. Earth is its own planet, and its people have their own civilization. I consider my very existence and time here a miracle and a gift, and you should do the same, and not ask for more." Clark sighs with regret. "I...shouldn't have asked for more."

"You're telling me that these human worms are more deserving of life than your Kryptonian brothers and sisters?" Zod demands.

"I will not have a hand in hurting humanity. In fact… I will protect it wholeheartedly. Listen, Zod… Earth and its people, without alteration, have so much to offer you. If you'd only listen to me-"

"I will give you one last chance," Zod interrupts in an icy tone, crossing his arms, "to change your mind and save Krypton of your own volition. Otherwise… you will regret this moment."

Clark does not even hesitate before he responds: "I will _not_ let you take over the Earth."

"Pity," Zod says in a voice that clearly lacks that of which he speaks.

Then, yet again displaying unexpected savagery, Zod releases a burst of heat vision - directly into Clark's own eyes. The pain momentarily blinds him - figuratively and literally - leaving him a staggering in mid-air and crying out in pain.

A part of Clark _knows_ that he should have seen an attack such as that coming. But… Clark has never fought a Kryptonian before. Has never fought someone else with heat vision. And as someone who would never even _consider_ using his heat vision to blind someone… well, perhaps Clark just doesn't understand Zod at all, and he is therefore incapable of anticipating his actions.

Clark knows that by the time his suffering eyes recover, Zod will be long gone. In fact, he suspects that Zod is already far away, having escaped at the speed of sound.

But for a few moments, Clark can still hear the harsh whisper of the other Kryptonian from some distant place.

"I know where you have lain your roots, son of Jor-El. I know where you call home. And unless you grant _me_ a home again, I will destroy the one that you have claimed. That...is an oath."

* * *

"We can't thank you enough, Superman," the engineer says as he guides Clark along the catwalk. "Fixing the crack in the dam might be near impossible, if it wasn't for you."

It's been two days since the confrontation at the Fortress. And for almost all hours until this point, Clark has been on his highest guard. He never knows where or when Zod intends to strike, but he figures that Metropolis is his next target. So he's been keeping a keen eye on the city, and all its problems - in fact, he's probably given it more attention than it deserves, given how low the crime rate is nowadays, with Superman around.

But one issue that he cannot ignore is the cracking of the antiquated hydroelectric dam between Hob's River and the West River. The S.A.I. Dam, as it is called, is crucial for generating clean electricity in the area, and for preventing potentially deadly floods. So he has promised to take action to ensure the dam's reliability.

Thus, Clark shoots the man a smile. "It's no problem, Mr. Wallingford. I understand how important this structure is. Fixing it would be my pleasure."

"Well, if you'll excuse me for nagging, but it'd probably be best if you got right on it. We can't afford for the whole dam to burst - not only would we be missing out on a lot of electricity. but that water would flood a lot of areas around Centennial Park."

"Understood, sir," Clark replies. Then, with a modest salute, he dives gracefully into the water, creating barely a splash in the churning West River.

He swims easily to the side of the dam, where the crack is located. His vision allows him to examine it fully, determining just how deep it goes, and whether more work will be required to fix it. At this point, however, he believes that some heat-vision welding will suffice. So his eyes glow red, and the water begins to bubble around his line of sight. Soon enough, rays of light are meeting the underwater surface of the dam, melting its crack shut. It should be fully repaired in just a few moments… a few more seconds now…

But then, of all people, and of all moments, Zod appears yet again, and with a twisted smile, he takes Clark by the cape and throws him into the wall of the dam. Tiny to huge cracks spider from his point of impact, leaking water through the openings to the other side. Seeing Metropolis's protection as his first priority, he tries to ignore Zod long enough to repair the damage he has been forced to make. His heat vision immediately tries to weld the gaps, but Zod is certainly not inclined to let him.

Zod laughs - a gargled, bubbling sound. Then, he takes Clark's cape and begins flying upwards, dragging an unwilling Superman behind him toward the surface.

Soon enough, he is being pulled through the air toward the New Troy skyline at dangerous speeds, leaving a disintegrating hydroelectric dam in his wake.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERHERO OR SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: OKAY LEMME EXPLAIN**

**I wrote the last chapter literally six months ago, which was **wayyyy** before the "TELL THAT TO ZOD'S SNAPPED NECK" meme became a thing (if you're on **tumblr**, you'll know what I'm talking about). So that was a silly coincidence. The only real meaning that it had was just a reversal of roles from that which appeared in Man of Steel. In that movie, *spoiler* Clark is forced to snap Zod's neck, but in this case, we have Zod trying similar because supposedly that's one of the few ways **kryptonians** can kill each other despite their invulnerability. **

**I'm so sleepy so I'm gonna go to bed. Hope you enjoyed! Sorry about the cliffhanger! Please review!**


	47. Chapter Thirteen - Threat

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN - TRUST_

By the time Superman is able to tear his cape out of Zod's grip, he is already too far from the dam. Which means that the fight is now a game of keep away - with Superman, ironically, as the thing being kept away.

Fighting Mongul was bad enough. That was a test of Superman's other abilities, besides strength, since Mongul's blows were just as powerful as those from Clark's fists. He had to pour on the heat vision, the speed - the works. And that was just enough to push him to victory.

But to fight someone _else_ with powers of super-strength, flight, and heat vision? Those were Clark's main advantages… and now… Zod shares them.

Thus, every time Clark tries to move around Zod, and speed toward the source of the blaring emergency sirens, Zod zips in front of him and throws him backwards. He may not be quite as strong as Clark yet, but he is certainly making progress. Clark wonders if there's a plateau - if a Kryptonian can only absorb _so much_ strength from the sun, and whether in a matter of minutes or days, their powers will be equal.

When Zod's fist makes contact with his face, and an enormous shockwave ensues, Clark becomes relatively certain that his theory is correct. Because it would take _a lot_ for Clark to hit someone harder than that.

As a result, he is thrown through the air, and when he is _finally_ able to slow himself using his own flying abilities, he is already miles out of the city. This, however, is not a catastrophe - not yet, anyway - even if he can taste blood in his mouth for the _first_ time in his life, and unsurprisingly, it tastes just like it smells - coppery. But he doesn't think that the injury is critical, and in broad daylight like this, it's likely that he's healing already. Besides, it will only take milliseconds for him to return, and perhaps this will become a tactical _error_ on Zod's part. With Clark's attacker far away, he can take a new, Zod-free route to the dam, and repair the damage.

So he sets off, rocketing toward the S.A.I. facility.

But, as he soon discovers, Zod is _not_ making any sort of tactical error.

Clark is perhaps less than a quarter mile away when Zod appears again, still wearing that same twisted grin. This time, despite Zod's speed, Clark is able to anticipate his next blow - a double-fisted pounding over the head. In response, Clark grabs the other Kryptonian's wrists before he can strike once more. Their limbs shake as their strength cancels each other's out, leaving them stagnant and audibly struggling from the exertion.

But then, to Clark's surprise, Zod relinquishes all of his force and allows himself to fall backwards. His hands unfurl from fists and grasp Clark's wrists as well, keeping them bound together. And now, Clark's force is the only one acting on the two of them. And his strength, on Zod's new position in the sky… is pointing downward.

By meeting no resistance, they shoot toward the city below at full speed, like a pair of bullets at terminal velocity.

And _God_, they're moving fast - break-neck fast.

_Calm down, _Clark orders himself, despite the panic that is building in his head. _You do fast rescues all the time. This is no different. _

Luckily, that panic clears enough for him to attempt to slow himself - and Zod - down. His options are few, and crude. Nonetheless, he takes them. He pulls upward with his flight, or tries to let go of Zod, so that he can perhaps fly under and catch him before he hits the ground.

But his enemy allows neither. Zod smirks as he pours some of his own flight into the descent, and tightens his grip on Clark's arms. They're both trapped like this - hurtling toward the ground. And Clark's running out of options… and the time to act on them.

But soon the options don't matter, because Zod _kicks_ Superman in the stomach while Clark is distracted. The upward force is both a blessing and a curse; it slows them greatly (they're still falling, but not enough to...say...cause an earthquake). On the other hand, the kick completely incapacitates Clark, and in his few instances of recovery, Zod is able to flip over him.

Now Clark is the lower contender in this grappling match - he will hit the ground first, and take the brunt of their landing.

The impact - a humongous shockwave that shatters every window in a half-mile radius and is likely to leave Clark's back sore for days - happens in milliseconds, but it feels like a century to Clark. He sees the way that the lake in Centennial Park surrounds him, and crests away from their bodies, like a circular tsunami. Sees the way the water arches toward the people strolling on the streets beside that lake.

He can easily view Zod's manic smile above him - the wide, crazed, blood-thirsty eyes hidden under those goggles of his.

There isn't enough time. People standing close to the lake will get washed away by the water carried by the shockwave. And then the dam will collapse, killing anyone that remains, and probably leaving a good chunk of the city without power.

No time. No time to play nice.

So this time, Clark fires heat vision into Zod's eyes, figuring that his own experience proves the relative harmlessness of the act. He still uses only a small amount of heat - enough to distract Zod for a little while.

Zod cries out as his goggles shatter, and he clutches his face, relinquishing his grip on Clark. As a result, Clark throws Zod off of himself, onto the now-empty lake bed.

_Fast rescues_, Clark urges himself. _Save the lives. You have to save the lives. _

Clark speeds around the park, moving people away from the vicinity before the cresting waves even leave the boundaries of the lake. He breaks the sound barrier several times, and in order to secure the safety of the people he grabs, he wraps them in his cape as he moves.

Less than three seconds pass and the park is empty thanks to Superman, though in near-ruins, now that the water has spread everywhere. The fish that swam in the lake are sprawled on the ground, slapping feebly against the cobblestones. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens from the dam are still going off. The water pressure is building in the fissures he and Zod made… and soon enough, they will grow to an unmanageable size, and tear the entire structure apart.

Zod staggers out of the water, fiercely rubbing his eyes. Perhaps Clark injured him more than he expected, but doesn't have the time to care. The dam is still collapsing, and he prepares to take off toward it.

But then Zod begins talking in Kryptonese using that coarse, hateful tone. And though the words are chilling, Clark suddenly remembers that there's there's something else to which he needs to listen - before Zod leaves again. So he stays for a few seconds longer, hoping that the dam can hold out.

"You should know, Son of Jor-El, that I could have landed us in the center of the city, not in some tiny deposit of water," Zod declares. "I could have razed this ground with my eyes, or frozen it with my breath. But I didn't, because I want you to take this as a warning. The next time we meet… prepare to open the Phantom Zone, or I will destroy everything you treasure. This city, your loved ones, the entire planet - the list continues."

Clark doesn't have the time to listen to him further - at this point, he has what he needs. So he does as Zod expect, and flies toward the dam.

When he arrives, the cracks in the dam are deep, like gouges, and much water has already poured through them. He acts fast - he speeds toward a truck carrying liquid concrete and borrows some (he will contact the driver with an apology later). Then, he flies back and forth between the dam and the truck, filling the gaps with the material. When the repair job seems adequate, he heats the concrete, allowing it to fully harden in the fissures. The result is a fully operational, fully mended S.A.I dam, and a temporarily safe Centennial Park.

When Clark surfaces and flies back to the park, Zod is nowhere to be found. But he didn't expect anything less.

* * *

Lois has never seen the Metropolis Police Department so bustling. There are an infinite number of phone calls ringing, and people yelling to increase the noise. Every television in the building is on and blaring. Criminals are being dragged inside and pulled into interrogation rooms. Papers are being exchanged so quickly that they entire place seems to have a white background. And finally, there are so many people shoved in the room that Lois would bet, however ironic it may be, that some sort of health/fire code is being broken at this very moment.

"Miss, you _can't_ be here right now," a heavyset officer at the front desk tells her in an irritated voice. "We're dealing with an emergency situation."

"Listen, pal, I'm _Lois Lane_," she retorts, gesturing to herself. "And if you're trying to kick me out, especially when I'm here on Captain Sawyer's request, you're soon gonna be dealing with _another_ emergency entirely."

She proceeds to push through the crowd of officers and criminals alike, trying to climb the stairs and approach Maggie's office. Ultimately, she finds success, and knocks smartly on the door.

Right now, this is the _last _place she wants to be. She could be interviewing eyewitnesses or checking out the scene of the disaster, but _no_, she's here, catering to the whims of the police captain. But she supposes that she owes Maggie this.

"Who's there?" Maggie demands, her voice muffled by the door.

"Someone who doesn't want to be here. And someone who _will_ leave if this becomes some sort of shitty knock-knock joke."

"Oh. It's you, Lois."

The door swings open and Lois gets pulled inside by the collar of her suit.

"Hey! What the hell's going on?" Lois yelps as Maggie slams the door shut behind them.

And then Lois's whole day is worsened (as if Zod's attack was not enough). Because Lex Luthor is casually standing inside in one of those pristine suits of his, and he greets her entrance with a playfully raised eyebrow.

The way he looks at her, with those poisonous green eyes, is still unsettling. Because despite the quizzical glint in his irises, there's another glint - one that suggests that he knows everything, and refuses to tell you, since he enjoys having the upper hand.

_Pompous jerk_.

God, it's so liberating to be free of gratitude to him. Not that she's _glad_ he evened the score, with that crystal fiasco. But she's grateful she can freely dislike him again, and not feel guilty.

Maggie, meanwhile, gives her an incredulous look, her jaw set in anger. "I was just about to ask _you_ the same thing, Lois. Because Superman and some supervillain just tore apart Centennial Park, and no one can tell me why."

Lois crosses her arms and puts on her best poker face, refusing to make further eye contact with Lex. "And why do you think I'd have information about that? I'm a reporter, sure, but right now, by calling me here, you've seriously impaired my ability to report."

Of course, she does, in fact, know everything about Zod, and why he attacked Superman - has known for a _long_ time. Whenever Clark was home with her, he told her about the Kryptonian criminal's past, and discussed ways to stop him, especially now that Zod is demanding freedom for his fellow Phantom Zone inmates.

That, and full dominion over the Earth. The guy's nothing if not ambitious.

Perhaps he should hang out with Lex.

Lois suggested that Clark returns Zod to the Phantom Zone, but Clark claimed that the situation wasn't so simple. Apparently he is incapable of forcing Zod to do much of anything - not when they are of near-equal power.

"Listen… the only reason I was able to defeat Mongul was _because_ I had a variety of powers on my side. He had strength. I had strength and speed and flight and heat vision. That gave me the advantage - just barely. But Zod has everything that I do - in addition to military training. And for that reason, he's outmaneuvering me… using my powers in ways that I would not consider, simply because I don't normally go on the offensive. And I can't let loose on him - I could shatter the entire planet, for all I know," he told her.

"True. Because who wants to save a world that's already destroyed?" Lois half-joked. Or perhaps quarter-joked. Because she really wasn't smiling at all - just reveling in the ridiculousness of the whole situation, and lessening her own distress with sardonic humor.

In the present, Maggie is most definitely lacking good humor. And it shows.

"I'm the police captain, Lois," she practically yells, "People are coming to me for answers, and I have none! _Superman_ apparently has them, and _you_ know Superman better than anyone. So tell me - who is Superman's new boxing buddy, and why does he have Superman's powers?"

"It's obvious, isn't it, Captain? This newcomer… he's Kryptonian," Lex interjects with impatience, like he has been trying to convince Maggie of this fact for a while. "He was probably attracted here by Superman's blatant presence, and has come to destroy us."

Lex isn't exactly wrong about Zod's origins, or intentions, but he _wasn't_ attracted here by Clark's presence. If anything, Lex's meddling with Kryptonian technology brought Zod to this lovely strip of the solar system. Not that she can accuse him of that in front of Maggie.

"Why, exactly, is Luthor here?" Lois queries with frustration, throwing her hand in his direction. "Unless you want useless fear-mongering in an _already_ fragile and tense time for people. Besides, doesn't he have a lawsuit to attend to?"

"He's here on my request. And that ranks a bit higher than his lawsuit."

"What kind of request? A request for public panic and endless annoyance? Doomsday talk tends to break society down, not unite it, contrary to popular belief."

"I requested some sort of scientific expert, especially now that Star Labs has _completely_ lost my trust. And Lex agreed to lend his services without so much as a grumble - unlike you." Maggie looks at her appraisingly. "But you're my second opinion. So what's your view - or knowledge - Lois? Is this new threat from the stars, like Superman?"

Lois shrugs and inhales. God, she hates lying. Because if she's doing this to Maggie, right now, she'll have to do it in the papers too. And as someone that values her journalistic integrity - that absolutely _sucks_.

But these aren't necessarily her secrets to tell.

"Contrary to _yet another_ popular belief, Superman and I aren't very close," Lois claims, and she hears Lex snort audibly as a result. It takes all of her will to resist punching him in the face and the nuts simultaneously. Luckily for his sake and hers, a pointed look in his direction shuts him up, so that she can continue speaking.

"In fact, interviews with Supes are near impossible to get. So if you want info on his attacker, get in line, and go to the source. Because I've got nothing."

She hopes the nonchalance doesn't sound false. Lying is not her forte.

Maggie squints her eyes at Lois, and it seems like she is prepared to question her further. But then something - or someone - interrupts her.

"Captain Sawyer, Miss Lane is right. If you want answers, I'm the person to go to."

Lois glances toward the source of the muffled voice, which is none other than Superman (Clark) himself, floating outside the third-story window. Their eyes meet briefly but expressively; he tells her that he is alright, despite the bruise near his mouth (_A_ _bruise_? _How_?), that he's working on the problem, and that the situation is serious - all without using words.

But then they are both forced to look away, because Maggie might interpret their long look as something _more_ than what should exist between an interviewer and an interviewee. Even if that is exactly what she and Superman share.

"Do you mind letting me inside, Captain Sawyer?" Superman asks.

Though her expression is suspicious, Maggie does as he asks, and he sweeps into the room - looking graceful, as always. But his expression is not nearly so graceful - anxiety is clear on his features. Of course, the anxiety has been there for days, but now it is more pronounced than ever.

Now that he has arrived, Maggie begins with a barrage of questions. The interrogation is so rapid that Superman hardly has time to answer, so he lets Maggie tire herself out. Eventually, she falls silent after one final, fearful query.

"What do I tell the world, Superman?"

It's the same question to which Lois, as a reporter, wants to know the answer. So she too listens intensely - and worriedly.

Clark swallows visibly and downcasts his eyes. "You can tell the world… that another Kryptonian has arrived on Earth. And while his powers are equal to mine, his intentions are far less benign than my own."

If Clark is saying these things, then it can only mean that he _wants _Lois and Maggie to inform the public. So that they can prepare. Defend themselves. Which probably means that the situation is bad. Very bad. "_Batten down the hatches_" bad.

"Ha! I was right! You've brought this danger upon us!" Lex exclaims with a little too much excitement for someone facing a possible alien invasion. "You've brought yet another monster to our door. Honestly, are you _trying_ to destroy us? It's Mongul all over again."

Superman glares at Lex - rightfully so, since Zod's arrival, in many ways, was caused by Lex's actions with the crystal.

"Firstly," Superman begins, "Mongul attacked Earth with no knowledge of my residence here. Secondly, a variety of factors were responsible for _this_ outcome. Almost all of them were outside my control or knowledge. And if I _could_ change them, or send Zod away, I would."

"Wait," Maggie backtracks. "You're saying that you… can't beat him?"

Clark sighs. "Not easily."

"Then what does he plan to do? And is there a way we can help?"

Brief silence. Then, Clark's reply: "He intends to claim Earth as his own, and bring more of his kind here. And I don't think you can help - not without getting hurt, anyway."

"You said that you were the last of your kind!" Lex snarls. "But those were lies to protect your comrades in arms, weren't they? So that you can catch humanity by surprise."

"I didn't lie," Superman declares calmly. "I didn't _know_. And I promise, I will do everything in my power to stop Zod from succeeding."

"Zod?" Maggie repeats. "That's his name? Zod?"

"Yes. General Zod. And while he may be Kryptonian, he's one of very few that remain. And he's a disgrace to my civilization. Or at least… my understanding of my civilization."

With another brief glance at Lois, Superman approaches the window and prepares to take flight.

"I'm going to continue searching for him. I'm sorry about the destruction we caused with our battle. I'll fix the damage at first opportunity. But right now, I need to be far away from here - searching for Zod, before he targets me again."

"Why is he targeting you?" Maggie wonders. "You're also Kryptonian, aren't you?"

"He's targeting me because he hates me," Clark replies simply. "And he hates me because I've chosen humanity over him.

Then, Superman is flying away, and out of sight.

Once they are alone, Lex turns to Maggie. "While he plays messiah, and gets us all killed, I'll be getting my satellites running. This 'Zod' won't be threatening us for long."

He strolls toward the door, but before he fully exists, he leans close to Lois's ear.

"When the time comes, you'll know what this is for," Lex whispers. "You can thank me later."

Then, he is pressing a tiny, somewhat heavy black box into her palm, and walking out without another word.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERHERO OR SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: I'm rewatching Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman so I didn't spend a lot of time checking this over. Hopefully there aren't any typos. Also, that show is so adorable it's left me a mess. **

**Remember that sad/unhappy thing that could happen that we talked about? It's soon. So prepare. I won't say what it is. **

**Alrighty, I gotta go. Please review. **


	48. Chapter Fourteen - the Box

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN - THE BOX_

It took Lois two hours to open the box. Not because it was _difficult_ to open, but because she had no idea what was inside, and didn't necessarily want to to know.

So she left it sitting on her apartment's kitchen table, like a little black time-bomb, waiting to be triggered. Time passed quickly as she stayed on the couch across the room, her eyes trained on the box. Her vigilance had been warranted, she felt; the box could have done something suspicious or nefarious, if left unattended. It was from Lex, after all.

But Lois also stared at it because its mysteries were preoccupying her. What could possibly have been inside, she wondered? _What_?

Was it another present for which she could not repay him? Was it a tiny container of poison gas that would kill her as soon as she opened it? Maybe, if she was lucky, it would be incriminating evidence that Lex had provided against himself (unlikely). Maybe it was another Lexcorp bullet with which she could be shot, this time by herself, so that she wouldn't have to live through the worst-case-scenario of hostile Kryptonians enslaving the planet.

Or… had it been Lex anticipating the end of the world, and attending to his final affairs?

Inside that box...the tiny, heavier-than-normal, black box… could there have been a _ring_?

If so, she didn't want to open it. Didn't even want to know that he felt that strongly about her. Of course, she knew that he did already, but she didn't need the diamond-and-gold studded confirmation. This isn't a love triangle. This isn't even a choice for her. She wants Clark, not Lex. And the stronger Lex's emotions for her become, the more likely it is that Lex will snap and do something horrible to Clark.

If Zod doesn't kill Clark first, that is.

What _fun_ times she lives in.

_Not_.

Regardless, it might have been easier to say that she had lost the box early-on. Dropped it off a balcony. Left it on the subway, or in a taxi. Let her purse get stolen, with the box inside. Unopened. Its contents unseen. Forever a mystery unsolved. That was good enough for her.

Lex would know if Lois saw it, and lied about it. He has always been too good at knowing when people are lying. Yes, it would have been better to just lose it.

But wouldn't he have talked to her about it beforehand, if it really was a ring? Explained himself?

Was she being irrational?

Probably. He's known for years that that she doesn't feel the same way. But there was still a possibility…?

The fact of the matter was that she wanted her first ring - if there was gonna be _any_ ring at all - to be from Clark. Not a sleaze-bag like Lex. Because if someone as _evil_ as Lex found something _that_ lovable in her - lovable enough to give her a ring - then she could only wonder whether there is something truly wrong with her. Something just as evil as what's inside Lex.

But eventually she came to her senses. She shook her head and cleared it simultaneously. His emotions for her… were not her fault. They never have been. His infatuation has nothing to do with her as a person. And it's just that - an infatuation. Inexplicable, except by his mind. She can say with 100% certainty that she does not love Lex Luthor.

His love for her, ring or not, could not and would not define her.

So, like someone reckless - like someone nonchalantly setting off a bomb - she got up and threw the box open, ready to view its contents with utmost bravery.

Now, several moments later, when she stares at those contents, she has trouble making sense of them.

Or it.

Because inside the box is a plum-sized piece of Kryptonite - jagged, glowing green radiation, like fresh emeralds that spent a little too much vacation time in Chernobyl.

Lois's first reaction is to close the box yet again, despite her so-called bravery. But such a response is instinctual for a reason. After all, this is one of the few substances on Earth (and off-Earth) that can kill the man that she loves. In fact, the last time she saw Kryptonite in person, it was in Emil Hamilton's clutches - and that, of course, ended badly. That same professor was _creative_ enough to lace it into sedatives to keep Clark in a very painful, drug-induced coma. It took Clark two days to fully recover from that (which, for him, is quite a lot). So Lois definitely feels justified in her aversion to Kryptonite.

Why did Lex give it to her? What could possibly be his rationale? She most certainly will not use it on Clark. And it's not like she can stroll up to Zod and use it on him. Zod probably doesn't know she exists, and if he does, he probably doesn't care. According to Clark, Zod is convinced that human beings are hardly as valuable as insects.

So why would Lex give this to her?

"_When the time comes, you'll know what this is for_," he whispered. "_You can thank me later_."

She wonders what 'time' he is talking about, and whether it will come to pass. A significant part of her fearfully believes that it will. After all, when Clark had been kidnapped last year, Lex told Lois a set of numbers that ultimately saved Clark's life. Lex anticipated exactly what would happen that night, somehow - by measuring probabilities, or by some other means. Who says he can't do the same thing again?

But she's not going to blindly trust him. Lois wants an explanation, and she'll be damned if she doesn't get one.

* * *

The last time Clark visited Mount Everest, he was 21 years old, and fresh out of college. Since then, the mountain hasn't changed very much. It still stretches toward the sky like a serrated, broken tooth - one that has been half-stained by the black rocks toward the bottom, and half-bleached by the pure snow toward the peak.

As he approaches it, he can see the way that the clouds part like a sea around its tip, or a nebulous wreath of white laurels adorning its head - laurels that disappear and morph in the unforgiving, icy wind. The one difference, he notes, is the weather. Storms have gathered in the sky, and they are attacking the slopes of Everest with astounding ferocity. In some ways, this is a good thing. A storm means that no climbers will be present, and settlers at the base have moved for fear of avalanches. Collateral damage should be minimal, if nonexistent.

When Clark first came here when he was younger, it was an impulse - a test of his limits. In fact, after he told Lana about the visit, she laughed and called it a 'macho' thing.

In her mind, Clark, as a man, would _of course have_ _to_ fly to Everest. Not somewhere intellectual - like Rome, or Paris, or Beijing, or Saint Petersburg. No, he went for something primal and _masculine_. Something primitive and devoid of human life - like the tip of Everest.

But that hadn't been his rationale, despite what she joked. On the other hand, he had gone there to answer a question. And that question was whether he could survive a flight to Everest - the most hostile environment on Earth, given its below-freezing temperatures, thin air, and heavy winds.

He was stunned to discover not only that he could survive, but that he could survive _easily._ It was a testament to just how invulnerable - how powerful - Clark really was.

It terrified him.

Today, as he flies toward Everest again (now that he is less afraid and more knowledgeable of his powers) he is answering yet another question. And that question is almost as life-changing and limit-testing.

Can Superman defeat General Zod?

He should have guessed sooner that the mountain would be Zod's chosen hideaway. The hulking face, the height by which it towers over everything, the isolation, the grandeur, the lack of human population - all of those factors would most definitely appeal to the human-hating, megalomaniacal General.

But those aspects were not the giveaways that led Clark to Everest right now. No… that giveaway is Zod's heartbeat - the one that Clark painstakingly memorized during their last confrontation. The thumping of that hate-filled, angry organ consumes Clark's super-hearing as he follows it to a cavern several hundred feet below the peak.

Zod can refuse to talk. But he can't stop his heart. And that's how Clark can, for the first time, allow himself to achieve the element of surprise. By tracking Zod's heart.

How Clark plans on sending Zod back to the Phantom Zone, on the other hand, is a mystery. An even greater mystery is how he plans to drag Zod to the Fortress so that he _can_ be sent to the Phantom Zone.

Clark is counting on the fact that Zod will _not_ have an eye out for him, and that he hasn't adopted the method of memorizing Kal-El's heartbeats. If the latter proves untrue, then Clark is most likely - for lack of a better word - _screwed_, because Zod will strategize against him.

But as far as he can tell, Zod is oblivious to an oncoming assault. Clark can spot him crouching in the cavern, like some ancient Neanderthal, given his tattered clothes and rugged appearance. His eyes are downcast, and he appears to be muttering to himself.

Clark reminds himself _not_ to pity and sympathize with him. But it's hard to do, especially since he thinks that Zod's time in the Phantom Zone, and his isolation from fellow Kryptonians, has truly broken him in so many ways. To this day, Clark still does not know if Zod's imprisonment was justified. But Zod's reaction to it, and his resolution to take over the Earth, is by no means justified either.

But Clark is not prepared to kill Zod. He's not even sure that he could.

(Maybe he's lying to himself. By a slim margin, he is still stronger than Zod. And if Zod's staggering punch is any indication, Kryptonians are fully capable of hurting each other because they are on the same power plane. So couldn't he snap Zod's neck, or spine, and end it all? _Couldn't he_?)

He revolts himself by just thinking about such things. In fact, if he could tear that little voice - the one that whispers that he _should_ kill - out of his head, and toss it far away from himself, he would. Maybe some people would disagree with his methods, but he _won't _play God by killing. That's a line that can't be uncrossed.

To kill...to be responsible for the fading of energy from the body after death…like snuffing out a bright, beautiful flame - the soul - leaving nothing but darkness in its wake...

No. It's an emphatic _no_. He will not kill Zod. The only thing Clark can do is restart the circle - bring Zod back to the prison to which he was sentenced. Even if that seems impossible. He'll try, though. He has to.

Zod is in his sights. Thus, Clark acts fast - 'faster-than-a-speeding-bullet' fast. A bullet speeding toward Zod without so much as a deviation in his course, an arrow flying, ready to engage this Kryptonian General in full combat.

The mountain shakes as Clark's first blow lands. Zod is initially too surprised to return it. But soon enough, the fight takes to the air, into the storming clouds, sounding like thunder caught in a howling blizzard.

* * *

"_-standing in Centennial Park, where several hours ago, in a surprising turn of events, Superman was attacked by another member of his own species - a Kryptonian named General Zod. This information was confirmed by Superman himself, who claims that he has NOT allied himself with Zod in an invasion of the Planet, which is why he is being targeted."_

Lois _really_ should know better than to watch the news on television. Especially when she wrote an article on the same topic, several hours ago (and with better facts and sources, too). But she has been attempting to call Lex for a half-hour, and has failed consistently (how _dare_ he ignore her calls). So this is her way of passing the time - sitting in her apartment, watching Heather Kelley commentate on the 'KRYPTONIAN ATTACK ON METROPOLIS,' as dubbed by GBS, channel 12.

"_Zod's attack on Superman, according to reports, led to the irresponsible sabotage of the S.A.I. Dam. The structure nearly collapsed before Superman returned to fix the damage in the nick of time."_

_Here it comes, _Lois thinks, anticipating what Heather's implication, and knowing that none of it is good.

"_Nonetheless, the safety of the dam does not fix the damage here," _Heather continues, gesturing to the ruins of Centennial Park, which are almost entirely covered in water and fish, except in the actual lakebed, which is totally empty. "_Centennial Park experienced several million dollars in estimated damage as a result of Superman's 'brawl.' A fight which he could have moved out of the city, but didn't. Thus, approval ratings for the Man of Steel, after this event, have dropped nearly twenty-five percent."_

The screen switches to various on-the-street interviews. Lois is absolutely sure that the people speaking are filled to the brim with intelligence and insight.

_Not_.

In fact, what they say on camera shows a complete dearth of such things.

"_Superman probably brought that lunatic here,_" one woman says. "_Aliens didn't come until he did. If he leaves, so will they. Simple as that._"

Another person remarks: "_Superman has never caused so much destruction before - but now that he has, who's to say he won't again? He doesn't deserve to live on this planet with us if he can't keep his powers under control. He should go back to where he came from, and take this Zod jerk with him_."

"_Don't believe a word of what Superman says! He's been pretending to be good the whole time, but in reality, he's been gaining our trust to make the invasion go smoother. I almost fell for it. To think I liked that guy!" _a particularly paranoid-looking man exclaims.

Lois is revolted by how easily they condemn him, especially after he was the world's favorite celebrity and heartthrob, only a few days ago. Did they forget that he saved the entire world from Mongul's wrath? Mongul - an alien conqueror who came with no knowledge of Superman's presence, and found it to be a catastrophic surprise. What would they have done without Clark here? Surely, most of humanity would have perished, and the rest would have been enslaved.

They should be grateful. Especially since, without Clark's actions, Zod would have destroyed the world as he pleased. Yes, the crystal came in Clark's spaceship, but Lex activated the crystal, and the crystal activated the Phantom Zone projector. None of this is _really _Clark's fault.

"_Many people are left wondering whether a call for Superman's arrest is warranted," _Kelley interjects. "_He does have ties to this 'Zod,' after all. Thus, the question remains: can we rely on the Man of Steel in this time of absolute need?"_

_Yes!_ Lois wants to scream. _We can rely on him! _

At this point, she has been idly dialing Lex's number, over and over in her distraction. But suddenly, he picks up, leaving her scrambling to put the phone to her ear as he repeatedly says: "_Lois?_" over the line.

"Lex!" she yells in the mouthpiece. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"_Busy. Though I'm trying not to be too flattered by your level of interest in my activities_," he chuckles. "_But I was just about to call you anyway. I have a very important question_-"

"Me first, asshole," Lois sneers into the phone. "The kryptonite - why did you give it to me?"

"_Gesture of solidarity?"_ he offers sarcastically.

"Cut the bullshit. You obviously have more of the stuff, so as much as I can hope, it's not like you're really laying down your weapons." She glances at the box, which is still resting on the table, and continues. "But still… I know that rock is valuable as hell. And you know I'm not easily bought with gifts. Especially when those gifts can kill my boyfriend. So what's your deal?"

She's slightly disturbed by her continuing ability to _sense _when he's rolling his eyes, even over the phone. Because Lois would bet money that he's doing it right now.

"_As much as_ _I would like it to be, the Kryptonite is not intended for your darling boyfriend, so please curb your antagonism. If anything, I'm trying to help him - and you."_

Lois grips the phone tightly. "Is this...one of those things?"

"_What 'things?'"_

"One of those things where you know what's going to happen, even though nobody else does?"

"_In that case,"_ Lex says, "_It is most certainly 'one of those things.'"_

"Kryptonite only works on Kryptonians. And Zod's the only Kryptonian on Earth besides Clark. Which means…"

"_That I think Zod's coming after you? Yes, you're quite right_."

"How do you know?"

"_Unfortunately for me - and you - you're Superman's confidant and… ahem… bed-mate. And If Zod's been stalking your beau_-"

"Wait, how do _you_ know that he's been stalking Clark?"

"_Basic strategy. How else would Zod learn about his enemy? It's really not that hard to guess his intentions. Regardless, you, Lois, are the person with whom Superman associates most. You live in the same apartment, for God's sake. And Zod's attacks - they're more like warnings than anything else. I'm relatively certain - and I'm sure you can verify this - that Zod wants something from Superman, and in order to attain that which he wants, he'll need a bargaining chip_."

Knowing everything that Lex is saying to be true, Lois pauses before she says, "And by measuring probabilities, you've determined that I'll be that bargaining chip?"

"_Only when he gets desperate_," Lex informs her casually. "_He's a General, correct? I can't imagine that holding a hostage is proper military etiquette on any planet, so he won't come for you until he's out of options_. _But everyone becomes desperate eventually… somehow, someway._"

"For someone who's foretelling my certain death," Lois points out angrily. "you're really effing calm about this-"

"_I'm calm because if you listen to me - to the instructions I'm about to give you - the situation can be handled more-or-less painlessly. But first thing's first - your boyfriend. Has he purchased a new cell phone recently?"_

Lois blinks. The answer to the question is yes, but she momentarily withholds her response because she cannot imagine why Lex would ask such a thing. Indeed, Clark's phone was horribly cracked after Zod knocked him unconscious, so he has been using his father's old flip phone for the time being.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"_My satellites need to pinpoint him, and his old phone is no longer giving off a trackable signal. I'd be very grateful if you'd give me the number-_"

"You're going to fire your _satellites_ at him? Go to hell-"

"_Honestly, Lois. Superman is where General Zod will be. If my defense satellites are to neutralize Zod, then I need to find out where Superman is fighting him. Put your over-protective qualities on hold, for the time being_. _Besides, you know that, in this instance, your dear Superman would approve of what I'm trying to do, even if it left him injured - so long as Zod is stopped._"

She sighs, hating the fact that right now, he's right. Any line of defense against Zod is a good one - even if it's coming from Lex. So, like someone who has been tortured to elicit important information, she recites the number to him.

"_Aha! There they are!"_ Lex exclaims, probably seeing something pop up on a screen tracking Clark. "_Thank you, Lois. Now… I believe we need to discuss how you're going to survive the night…_"

* * *

_CRACK._ Zod's fist streaks under Clark's raised arms, meeting its mark near his ribs. The force of the blow is so staggering that it might have shattered the mountain, if it was directed toward its surface. Instead, Clark can feel - for the first time in his life - a rib crack. And it hurts like _hell_, and sounds like heaven's thunder.

His reaction to this previously unknown, agonizing sensation proves to be a vulnerability. Because soon enough, that same fist decides to crush Clark's nose. Crush it hard, and mercilessly, while Clark is distracted by other pain.

Blood spurts from the stricken spot - more blood than Clark has ever seen come from his own body. The deepness of the red, and the shiny, thick quality of the substance seem foreign to him as he drags his hand across his face. In the time he takes to stare at it in horror, he is forced to back away from Zod.

God, there's so much of it, like a crimson fountain - and it just keeps coming. Does this mean that his invulnerability is failing?

_No, of course not!_ _Focus_, he tells himself. _This is bigger than you. This about the Earth. Pull yourself together. _

The blood is flicked away, and it mingles with the heavy snow carried by the wind. Mixed together, they look like scarlet paint on a white canvas. Oddly beautiful, Clark remarks internally. It'd be more beautiful, he thinks, if that red wasn't from _his_ blood, and that blood wasn't an indication of how badly he is losing.

_God_, thinking about such things only seems to increase the pain emanating from Clark's torso and face. He has never felt swelling before, or received bruises, but he certainly knows what they feel like now.

When Clark first attacked Zod, Zod reacted like a cornered animal - lashing out with unexpected savagery and desperation. Regardless, for a long time, Clark had the upper hand given the element of surprise, much like Zod did in previous encounters. But no matter how hard he hit Zod, Zod would not fall unconscious - leaving Clark unable to find success, or safety for his adopted planet.

Clark then tried to drag Zod, who was quite literally kicking and screaming, to the Fortress to be sent back to the Phantom Zone. But the strength by which Zod's flight resisted Clark's own was incredible. He spun around rapidly, which forced Clark to not only release him, but to also crash into the mountain's face.

Then, as Clark stumbled to his feet, Zod finally regained his bearings and began to return Clark's blows. He repeatedly attacked his face, which Clark, learning from his mistakes, easily anticipated and blocked.

But he could only last so long without receiving a real hit. Soon, he knew that his luck would have to run out - and it just did. When Zod feinted a hit to his head, the general changed directions at the very last second, and, using his superspeed, promptly struck Clark in the chest.

Hence, the cracked rib, and by extension, the probably broken nose.

He should mention that, at this point, Zod isn't exactly unharmed either. He sports a black eye, and blood is trickling out of his mouth. But not nearly as much blood as what's currently seeping out of Clark's nose.

Clark can see the way that Zod's chest is heaving with exertion. There's still something distinctly wild in his eyes - something terrifying.

"Such a naive weakling," Zod snarls in Kryptonese above the roar of the wind, floating a little ways off. "Jor-El would be ashamed of you. And he was a coward. But you… you give the word 'coward' a whole new meaning, son of Jor-El."

"I have a name, you know," Clark tells him angrily, his fists still raised defensively. "It's Kal. Kal-El."

"Ha! You have no right to bear a Kryptonian name. Not when you've adopted another name - an _Earth_ name, for Rao's sake."

After Zod says the planet's name like a curse, he spits toward the ground. His saliva appears as a diluted red. Then, a dark smirk twists his features - and once again, it seems far more unsettling to Clark than any of his other expressions.

"_Clark_. _Clark Kent. _That's what they - the human insects you treasure - call you, isn't it? When they're not calling you something revoltingly sycophantic like _Superman_, that is_."_

"Stop it!" Clark demands, worried about just how much Zod knows about his personal life, other than his human name.

"Do you know how incredibly _revolting_ you are? You won't save your own people, and free them from the equivalent of hell - but you'll let yourself become Rao to the humans. Allow yourself to be worshipped and adored, even though you are nothing but cowardly vermin. Perhaps you fear that fellow Kryptonians will usurp your power."

"I don't give a damn about my power," Clark declares. "Don't you get it? I'd give up my power in a second, if it meant that you wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Don't _you _get it?" Zod screams. "These humans - they're nothing. Dust beneath a boot. It's a miracle that they've lasted this long, given their primitive technology, minds, and inclinations to kill each other, or their. This planet will be far better off with them forced into subservience, or eliminated entirely."

"Your megalomania is out of control, Zod. These people - they think. They feel. But clearly, you don't care. You _belong_ in the Phantom Zone!"

Zod laughs bitterly. "Oh Rao, I think you would've _liked_ the council, son of Jor-El. You spout their same _lies_ \- the same false claims of acting in the interest of the greater good. When in reality, you revel in inefficacy and self-profit - just like them. I don't regret trying to kill the council, and I certainly will not regret killing _you_ once you open the Phantom Zone."

"You're not exactly giving me a lot of incentive to do so," Clark says, rising toward him, ready to reenter the fight.

Zod swipes at him, but Clark dodges easily. They continue attempting to attack each other, occasionally firing heat vision, but ultimately missing given their adversary's speed. It's a perpetual, destructive stalemate - between someone powerful enough to kill, but unwilling to do so, and another person who is willing to kill, but not yet powerful enough to do so.

_Clark! _a voice yells, somewhere far away, in Metropolis. A voice that he is always listening for.

Lois.

From here, he can hear the rapid beat of her heart. Or is that his own? Or Zod's? No, it's hers. It must be hers. She's afraid, for some reason - very much so. Is she in trouble? If she's in danger, he'll fly to her-

_I know you can hear me, so keep listening! Clark… Lex has a lock on you - and Zod - with his satellites. And I think they can really hurt you both. But Lex, believe or not, isn't trying to get you - just Zod. So leave the area NOW, but make sure Zod stays behind!_

He wishes that he could respond to her, but she can't hear him. This is one-way communication via his super senses.

But how does she know all this? Has Lex been talking to her? Was this Lex's plan all along? And if Lex is involved, how can they trust anything he says?

It doesn't matter, he supposes. He trusts Lois, which means that he should do as she says.

Thus, as he continues to grapple with Zod, he relinquishes the offensive and focuses his energy on flying off. But Zod doesn't let him. He grabs Clark in yet another headlock, keeping him not only in place, but in a very painful position.

_Oh, this is bad. So very bad_, Clark thinks, remembering Lois's words. Lex should be firing on them any sec-

And that's when the beam hits them - the beam from Lex's satellite.

It's like a giant blaze of heat vision, concentrated toward Zod and Clark's exact location, streaking over their bodies.

And God, it _hurts_. Hurts like inferno, if inferno normally was able to affect Clark.

Is his skin burning? Oh God, it feels like his skin is burning. He can _smell _it… the roasting flesh. His or Zod's, he cannot tell. They are one voice as they cry out in pain, and their ability to fly seemingly disappears as they fall to the ground, like insects with their wings burned away.

As Clark's vision goes black, he notes how oddly entrancing the mountains look, bathed in the light of the satellite's red xaser.

He also wonders if this is what dying feels like.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO RELATED**

**A/N: I'm very tired but I'm almost done with this book in its entirety! I was thinking about writing something involving Lois's relationship with Lex. It's talked about a lot, but we never really understand it fully, and I feel like it's something I need to address. Idk where to put it once I write it though. In this story?**

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review! **


	49. Chapter Fifteen - Ultimatum

_CHAPTER FIFTEEN - ULTIMATUM_

Clark wakes covered in snow. Not dead, evidently, but initially worried that he is. All the pure white ice crystals covering his eyes - they most definitely make him believe that he had passed into some sort of afterlife. But he blinks, and clears his vision, allowing him to regain his bearings.

Holy cow, Lex's satellite packed a punch.

Clark sits up, brushing the snow off of his body. It had accumulated on top of him in a huge pile while he was unconscious - a result of the blizzards, no doubt. A glance around himself reveals his location, which is in the middle of a large crater. The imprint in the ground reflects the shape of his sprawled body, thus indicating that he landed very, very hard.

But then again… he wouldn't need the crater to know. His body's soreness is sufficient indication enough. The injuries that he received during the fight have only healed _slightly_ \- his nose is no longer bleeding, and his rib feels incredibly stinging instead of straight-up broken.

Overall, he doesn't feel _good_ at all, which is yet another relatively new state of being for him. In regular circumstances (unless kryptonite was involved) he'd be restored by now. But there's so little sunlight here due to the storms, and Kryptonians are dependent on sunlight for their health.

So his body remains more-or-less in pain, and his skin still appears a bright, angry pink - like someone with fresh burns (which he probably has, from that xaser).

Wait… Kryptonians. The fight with Zod. Where did Zod go after the satellite hit them? If Clark survived, then Zod definitely did as well.

Frantic, Clark swivels his head around, searching for his adversary. There is yet another crater in the ground, beside him in the snow, but it is empty.

That is when he hears a groaning, wrenching sound. Not here, in the Himalayas. But elsewhere - in Metropolis. No, _above_ Metropolis.

Ignoring the pain in his body, Clark jumps to his feet and flies off. His speed is slower the usual - lethargic from his recent unconsciousness. But he still manages to go _fast_ \- fast enough to arrive in Metropolis… just as something burning and metallic falls out of the sky.

The city is below him, and already screaming at what approaches it from above.

His reaction is instinctual. In moments, before he even knows what the plummeting object is, Clark is flying underneath it and supporting it with his strength. Soreness in his joints quickly morphs into red-hot pain, but he ignores that - it's not important. Saving the city is.

The object is heavy, but Clark has held heavier - like airplanes and boats and so on. The real problem is its speed - this thing has reached terminal velocity, and doesn't seem inclined to slow down. Nonetheless, Clark presses upward on it, and little by little, it decelerates.

Time is running out fast. The ground is approaching too quickly.

_PUSH, DAMN IT!_ he urges himself. _You've fought bigger things than this… than this-_

He glances upward at the exterior of the object he is carrying. And then he wants to punch himself, for not realizing what has been occurring.

It's a satellite. A Lexcorp _defense_ satellite. The same one that shot at Superman and Zod only… what was it? Minutes ago? Hours ago? Days?

The metal is crushed like tin foil, and pieces are quite literally torn off. And the burning - it seems to be happening for two reasons. The hull of the device has heated upon reentry, due to the atmosphere. But the internal mechanisms are also fried - as a result of heat vision, no doubt.

Zod has flown into _space_, and _thrown_ the Lexcorp satellite out of orbit, toward Metropolis.

But where is Zod? Why didn't he stick around to fight Clark, in his distraction? It's not like him to leave a mess like this and not attack.

Clark doesn't have the time or the concentration to figure it out right now. Instead, he continues pushing upon the satellite until it stops midair. People scream as he gently lowers it to the ground. They've never looked at him with such fear - not since he first introduced himself as an alien. They're afraid of him because of Zod - they're worried that he and Zod are the same, at their cores. And Clark hopes - knows - that he and Zod are not similar in any way. Except in ancestry.

Recent days have proved quite surely that Clark is more human than anything else. Even more than he could possibly be Kryptonian.

The press gathers around him, shrieking questions. But none of them are the member of the press he really wants to see.

He listens for her voice as he flies away from them, refusing to answer their questions. He can't go back to her yet - not while Zod is still out there.

Strange...he can't find Lois in their apartment, or at the Planet. But where…?

Her heartbeat. He needs to listen to her heartbeat.

That's when he hears it, loud and fast, like a jackhammer. And then her voice cries out, sounding like it is muffled by something - by _someone's_ hand.

"_-mmph - LET GO OF ME!_" she screams (_Screams_? Oh god, what's wrong? Why is she screaming?). "CLARK!"

But then her sound is cut off again, leaving Clark feeling like something _colder_ than the tip of Everest has been shoved through his heart. His stomach drops down to his toes.

She's at the fortress. _Zod_ has her at the Fortress!

_No, no, no, no_, he yells internally, speeding off so fast that the breaking of the sound barrier seems too rapid and too deafening, even to his ears. _Can't let him… can't let him hurt her… not her… if he's touched her I'll..._

The door to the fortress has already been torn away when he arrives. All the better, he thinks, because any second lost on him opening _doors_ is another moment that Lois is in danger.

He is prepared to use his superspeed to throw Zod away from her - far away, out of orbit even. He can definitely survive space now - Zod has proven that much with certainty, so he won't even have to kill him. But he'll do anything to get her away from him... push him into the vacuum.

Maybe he can even activate the computer, and have it suck Zod back into the Phantom Zone...

But when sees Lois, he knows that will not be possible.

Zod is standing next to the computer, with Lois in front of him like a human shield. (Like? No, she _is_ his human shield, for God's sake.) His right arm is around her torso, pinning her upper limbs to her sides. Meanwhile, his left arm is covering her mouth, preventing her from speaking.

Clark's eyes examine her frantically. She is unharmed, as far as he can tell. No bruises, no cuts. Nothing broken. Yet. But her eyes are so angry - angrier than he has ever seen them. And she is shivering from the cold. Obviously, Zod didn't have the courtesy to get her a jacket to protect her from the Arctic winds. It's unsurprising, but still concerning. Because if Zod doesn't kill her, then the cold _will_.

God, what is he going to do? He can't move Zod into the Phantom Zone without Lois moving with him.

"Finally coming to your senses, son of Jor-El?" Zod hisses in Kryptonese, his mouth revoltingly close to Lois's ear. "One movement of my wrist, and her twig of a neck is broken, and she'll be dead on the floor."

Clark floats in place, unable to do much else - except imagine what Zod is saying. He can picture the way that she'll fall, lifeless, her eyes blank and unsmiling, forever. Hair splayed against the crystal floor, body sprawled like a broken doll...

Lois says something indignant against Zod's hand - something horrible but justified, Clark can assume. Something Clark would also like to say, if he weren't so afraid of provoking the man holding her hostage.

"Perhaps we should experiment," Zod continues, "with how far human bones can bend before they break, hmm?"

He appears to reach for her arm, as if intending to break it.

"DON'T!" Clark begs, hand outstretched helplessly and uselessly toward her. "Please, _please_ don't."

If he makes a move - any move that can be interpreted as aggressive - then Zod _will_ kill her before he can reach her. That's the problem with a confrontation between two people with super-speed…proximity starts to matter. And Zod is much, much closer to Lois… while Clark might as well be oceans away.

With a gloating smirk, Zod relinquishes his grip on her arm and returns it to her torso, where it was previously placed.

Lois's stance is strange. Other than her constant shivering, she seems calm and totally unconcerned by Zod's attempt to _break her arm_ a few seconds ago. Maybe it's shock, Clark wonders?

"Don't? Of course, of course. I won't touch her further. So long as you cooperate," Zod tells him casually, his face still much too close to Lois's ear for Clark's liking.

"Cooperate? This is how you think you're going to force me to-"

"Open the Phantom Zone? Yes. It is. And It's a fair trade, I believe. You free my comrades from hell, and I don't send your insect mate to hell. You may be brain-sickened, considering your preference for the touch of inferior creatures such as this… but I think you're capable of seeing the best option for yourself."

Clark already knows that Zod wants him to open the Phantom Zone. But… to do so would sentence the Earth's population to an eternity of subservience. It's not his _right_ to do that. Even further, it's simply not _right_ morally to do that.

Oh no. He's playing God again… but this time, he's being blackmailed by the devil.

And it's working.

"Please, don't involve her. She has nothing to do with me… with this," Clark lies, hoping that it might save her.

"Really? Then you won't mind…" Zod makes another movement, tensing the muscles in his arms, preparing to snap her neck.

"Oh _God_, no! Stop - let her go… please!" Clark pleads desperately, his language switching to English in his panic. But then he takes a deep breath, and repeats the same thing in Kryptonese so that Zod can understand him. But Clark supposes it doesn't matter whether Zod understands him at this point… that extreme reaction already placed all of Clark's cards on the table.

Zod looks vaguely disgusted. "Did you really think that you could lie to me? I know who she is to you, even if it _revolts_ me. You've mated with her… I can smell it on her. And mixing blood - human blood and _pure_ Kryptonian blood - I cannot think of anything more despicable. Your father, coward that he was, would be ashamed of you."

Clark gulps, staring helplessly at Lois, who is meeting his eyes intensely. There's still no fear in them, oddly enough. Just anger. At Clark, perhaps. And why shouldn't she be directing her anger toward him? If it wasn't for Clark, she'd be safe. Her life would be normal.

"Make your choice, Kal-El. Before I grow impatient."

Zod stares at him, daring him to act, or daring him _not to _so that he can kill Lois.

What is Clark to do? If he opens the Phantom Zone, humanity dies. Zod will make Earth a New Krypton, and destroy everything that Clark loves about his adopted planet.

If he doesn't open the Phantom Zone, then… he loses Lois. And that might destroy him. Or at least the parts of him that really matter.

She'd tell him to let her die. And he swore to always trust her. Plus, if the situation was reversed, he would want her to let him die, rather than destroy humanity.

But he _can't_ watch him kill her. He just can't.

Lois's eyes are on his face too, just as Zod's are. But they're odd… not scared. Not pleading. Angry. Steady. Determined? But why?

And then she is thrusting her hand, which is free from Zod's hold, into her pocket. She pulls out a little black box that Clark has never seen, but Zod doesn't react to her movement - he knows that Lois is far weaker than he is, and keeps his focus on Clark, who is considered the greater threat.

Clark can't see inside the box. Which means that it's made of… lead…

Lead? But that can only mean…

The box is flipped open, and it is like Clark has been hit head-on with a tsunami of burning pain. Green fills up his vision - _Kryptonite_-green… the color of Lex's eyes, he can't help thinking.

And then all his strength seems to pour out of him, emptying into somewhere black and unreachable and _gone_. It's like he's pouring out of _himself too_, falling apart and toppling to the floor. The cold of the crystal floor feels odd on his now blazing, sweaty skin - a result of his fever and an inability to stand.

Lois brought Kryptonite, somehow. And it's killing him.

But that means it's killing Zod too.

* * *

As soon as Lois exposes Clark and Zod to the Kryptonite, they both fall to the floor, like someone flipped an off-switch on their strength. It's insane - how instantaneously the little rock works on them, turning these near-gods into nothing but sickly creatures that are hanging onto life by their fingertips.

"Huh?" Zod breathed as the full-force of the Kryptonite hit him, bathing him in that poisonous radiation. His limbs, as far as Lois could tell, became akin to spaghetti as he flopped to the floor, slipping into a coma. Thus, Lois was released easily, and left standing upright.

She delivers a prompt kick to his stomach in anger. It was downright humiliating - having to play 'damsel in distress' for that long. And it sickened her… knowing that she was so weak… knowing that without the Kryptonite, Clark would have been forced to make Zod's deranged choice.

And for a second there… it seemed like Clark was going to choose _her_. Which is the wrong choice. Saving humanity - that's what matters. That's something they've always agreed on.

She does not miss the way that Clark is suffering as well, even though he is farther away from the Kryptonite, proximity-wise. Worried, she runs to him, leaving the kryptonite on the floor by Zod, much like those thieves did to Clark during the Lexcorp Charity Gala. Ten minutes, she estimates. That's how long she _knows_ Clark can last when he is near a pure piece of Kryptonite. Anything greater than that is unknown territory - and potentially fatal, to not just Zod, but Clark too.

Lois kneels beside him, placing her hands on his cheeks. He is face-up, eyes pointed (if they were open) toward the ceiling. Like Zod, his limbs are limp, and his skin is clammy and warm, like he has a fever. To wake him, she shakes him - hard, and even taps his face lightly.

"_Come now, Miss Lane, you must realize that's useless_," she imagines Emil Hamilton saying from behind her, like he did on the night Superman was kidnapped.

_Not useless, _Lois tells herself, ignoring that particularly unpleasant memory. _He's not dead yet. C'mon, Clark. _

Clark moans, but he squints open his eyes. "L...Lois? Ugh...The...kryptonite..."

"Yeah, I know, Smallville. It hurts like hell. But if we're going to get Zod back into the Phantom Zone, then I've got to leave the lead box open. Right now, you _need_ to tell your computer to open a portal inside the fortress."

"Inside? Then we'll all… get sucked in..."

"Zod can't move and neither can you. So we bring the Phantom Zone to him, and get out as fast as we can. No time to really talk about it - we gotta get you out of here ASAP."

He nods weakly, then asks: "Can you… help me up, please?"

Lois does as he asks, hoisting him to his feet. They stagger a bit, but it's still incredible, how light he is, despite how heavy he seems. She learned about that aspect of his biology last year, when she rescuing him from Emil.

She drags him to the computer, and he fully leans against the console, using it to keep himself upright. With difficulty, he says, "Computer… new instructions…"

The console lights up responsively to his commands, reflecting on Clark's feverish, sweat-lined skin. Lois continues to support him, hoping that the Kryptonite poisoning will _not_ knock him completely unconscious before he issues the command. His breathing is ragged as he tries to talk, but he manages to do so all the same.

"Open the Phantom Zone here...inside the fortress… in 60 seconds. Only let things in, not out. You have permission...to send everything _inside_ the fortress that's not made of crystal...into the portal. After ten seconds, close it...That's… that's it."

With that, he slumps forward, unconscious, with his face against the console. Meanwhile, the Phantom Projector has already started glowing brightly, preparing to open a portal.

Clark gave her more than enough time to get themselves out - so long as nothing goes wrong. Still - it's better to _scram now_ and avoid taking unnecessary risks.

Frantically, she pulls Clark's arm around her shoulders and carries him toward the exit. The door is still gouged open, thanks to Zod's forced entrance into the fortress. Fifteen seconds pass, and she is outside. Another five, and she is several meters away from the Fortress. Next five, she is a sufficiently safe distance from it (she hopes) and proceeds to place Clark behind a large snow bank for his protection. Now that he is far from the kryptonite, his health appears to improve, and he moves feebly. But he's certainly not healthy enough to use his powers yet.

The Phantom Projector glows ever-brighter, its light visible even from her current location. She realizes that she could just leave with Clark, right now, and get so far away that the portal (and Zod) would be nothing but a memory. But then Zod will still be near the Kryptonite - and he will take it with him, into the Phantom Zone. There, it may kill any other Kryptonians trapped there - not just Zod. And she can't let that happen. She's no murderer.

She can't _believe_ she's doing this… but… she knows it's the right thing to do.

Thus, with a frustrated groan directed at herself, she runs toward the crystals and the fortress and _Zod_… even though she knows that she has less than 40 seconds remaining. And in the time it takes her to get back inside, (even though she is faster on her own than carrying Clark) she has maybe 30 seconds left.

Passing under the broken crystal threshold, she is finally inside, and the sky transitions from bright blue to shining diamond.

As they carry her toward Zod's unconscious form, her feet pound on the crystal floors like the ticks of a clock, marking a final countdown. She fumbles in her pocket until she pulls out the box, and makes a mad-grab for Kryptonite near Zod's head. Seconds pass as she covers that deadly green rock in lead, and then subsequently shoves the case back into her pocket.

As soon as she removes the Kryptonite, Zod begins to stir at her feet, much to Lois's terror. Meanwhile, a tiny portal has appeared in front of the Phantom Projector… and it's _growing_.

So Lois sprints to the door, acknowledging that her time has run out. She can feel the portal growing, even; feel the way that a foreign wind - one that is not Arctic in nature - is pulling her backward. If she stays inside, and it grows any larger, it _will_ take her into the Phantom Zone.

Time keeps moving, and the wind gets stronger. In fact, her feet start to slip on the crystal floor as the pull of the portal brings her backward, but she still presses forward, pretending that she's flying and that the ground and the wind don't _matter. _

There's a terrible howling sound as the portal grows to full size. She doesn't see it, but she can _hear_ it, and _feel_ it tugging at her.

She makes a baseball-style slide against the crystal floors, and that takes her to the threshold. From there, she rolls out of the fortress into the snow, jumps to her feet, and keeps moving. Clark ordered the computer to take anything inside the fortress that's not made of crystal into the Phantom Zone, but she can't exactly trust that his instructions will be followed exactly. What if that often misguided computer thinks the whole glacier constitutes the fortress? Well, they'd definitely be sucked inside, in that scenario, but no matter what, she _has _to get back to Clark.

As she continues running, Lois glances back to see Zod, who has recovered enough to wake. He glares at her with utmost hatred from the floor, and Lois has a feeling that, if they ever meet again, she will be _first_ on his murder-list.

But luckily for her, as a result of his Kryptonite poisoning, he is evidently too weak to move. Thus, his body is thrown toward the portal like something being sucked into a vacuum. His hands desperately seek _anything_ to anchor himself, but there is nothing. He is alone.

His screams of fury and fear echo behind her, but she ignores them. Maybe revels in them a bit. But then they soon disappear, and so does he.

She swivels her head, cutting off her view of the Fortress, because she is running, running, and _running._ The snowbank isn't far now - just a few more feet. Almost there...

But then the portal's wind becomes too strong and persistent at her back… she's _really_ slipping now…

"No!" she yells as her feet are pulled out from under her. Her body topples into the snow, and she is dragged backward toward the Fortress. If it hadn't been for that tear in the crystal walls, she would've made it… but the portal's power is bleeding out into the exterior world...

The Fortress illuminates the whole glacier in blinding light as the portal reaches full power. Lois screams Clark's name and closes her eyes as she is ripped toward the portal that so determinedly seeks to devour her. There's nothing for her to hold onto either… and in a few seconds… her fate will be the same as Zod's.

"I've got you!" Clark then bellows, apparently conscious, but beyond the view of her closed eyes.

Lois doesn't know what she was expecting. A rescue similar to her first by him, in which he gracefully pulled her into his arms and carried her out of harm's way. Or maybe she thought he wouldn't catch her at all. He did just have Kryptonite poisoning, after all.

She is totally unprepared when something collides with her, pushing her away from the fortress. It's definitely Clark, but instead of flying her to safety, he has _knocked_ her out of the portal's vacuum. His arms go around her tightly, gripping her as they land - _hard_ \- several meters away. Inertia keeps them moving, though, and they roll continuously along the ground until their bodies smack into a snow bank.

Then, the fortress's light dies down, leaving everything very quiet and still. Peaceful. If the fortress followed Clark's instructions… then Zod should be totally gone. Sent back to the Phantom Zone.

Her eyes are open now, and she sees that Clark is above her - on top of her, face inches above her own. He looks exhausted… still sweaty and pale, but visibly relieved. They stay like that for a few seconds, examining each other for injuries and breathing heavily from recent exertion. Lois's hair is all over her face, having been thrown about during all their movement. He gently pushes the strands away for her.

At his touch, she suddenly releases a fit of manic laughter. She cannot _believe_ everything that just happened. Not too long ago, Zod - an alien being - was holding her hostage. And then… then she poisoned both Zod and Clark with Kryptonite to save the world. Then… a few seconds later… she was nearly sent to a _prison dimension_.

But she managed to escape more-or-less unscathed, and Clark did too. And now, to her ultimate amusement… she is lying in the snow with Clark on top of her - which could be considered an _ideal_ way to spend a day, under normal circumstances.

Nonetheless, she just went through a _tornado_ of stressful emotions, so she just _has_ to crack a joke. How else is she supposed to deal with the near-trauma she just experienced?

"You know," she drawls between heavy breaths, "if you wanted to be on top… you could've just asked."

He laughs softly, leaning his forehead on hers, and soon they're laughing together in that hysteric '_oh my God we almost died'_ way. Or maybe he's laughing because this is such an inappropriate time for Lois's dirty humor. Either way… it's good to hear his laugh.

But the laughter fades, and soon he's looking at her with concern instead of amusement.

"Why would you do that, Lois? Why would go back inside?" he then asks quietly. "You could've been pulled in… and I… I would've been too sick to save you…"

"I've got a better question: How _did_ you save me? Last time I saw you, you were just waking up from a coma."

He moves off of her, and they sit in the snow, too tired to get up. In response to her words, his finger points toward the sky.

"The sunlight partially healed me once the kryptonite was gone… And then, when you screamed… I think something like adrenaline probably kicked in too. I was desperate and terrified… and even though I wasn't strong enough to fly, I figured I could _jump_. I managed to have _just enough_ strength to push you out of the portal's pull." He gives her a look. "But _you_ didn't answer _my_ question."

Lois tells the truth, her tone earnest as she says: "If I left the Kryptonite with Zod, he would've died. And wasn't the whole point of opening the Phantom Zone to avoid killing him? I mean… I brought the Kryptonite. His death would've been on my conscience. So I figured my actions were something you'd understand, even if I didn't make it."

"That was really, _really_ dangerous, though," he urges. "It's not like you have powers, or-"

"So what if I don't have powers? Have you _met_ me, Clark? Everything I do is dangerous. It's part of my vocation. And my status as 'normal human' doesn't make me any less obligated to act morally."

They sit in silence for the next few seconds, just trying to process recent events. Eventually, once she cools down a bit, Lois starts to shiver again. And _God_, she hates the cold. It seems like one of those things that are always trying to kill her.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERHERO OR SUPERMAN RELATED**

**A/N: Woohoo! Zod's storyline is about wrapped up...**

**But there is far more to come. Including that very sad thing. **

**I need you all to promise me right now that you won't flip out on me when you read it. It's critical for the plot and how things play in the third book so it HAS TO HAPPEN. It'll hurt, but we gotta keep going. **

**And man...wait until you find out what happens in the third book. **

**But the third book is literally SO MANY CHAPTERS away. Book two is probably gonna be way longer than all the others because I have an important character that I need to introduce/flesh out before it's over. **

**Alright, that's it! Please review! Hope you enjoyed! **


	50. Chapter Sixteen - Sacrifice

_CHAPTER SIXTEEN - SACRIFICE_

The world can't know what happened at the fortress. It can't know that Lois was involved, because if it did, well… then those old 'Superman and Lois Lane are having a torrid affair" theorists would go absolutely rabid.

So Lois plays interviewer instead of interviewee, and has Clark give a vague statement about Zod's defeat. Apparently, Superman found a way to send Zod off Earth. Apparently, everyone is safe. And apparently… life can go back to "normal," and the world can stop being afraid of Superman.

The last part doesn't occur so easily. But Clark works hard - he patrols more often than he used to, extending his range of activity to a wide variety of countries. The amount of rescues he makes spikes dramatically. And sure, maybe Clark claims that he is just 'trying to do the right thing' while regaining humanity's trust… but Lois suspects that he feels _guilty_. That he still blames himself for Zod's presence on Earth, and by extension, the destruction that Zod caused. Maybe he thinks he can balance the score by saving an abundance of lives, now that the danger has passed.

Lois, meanwhile, tries not to be too proud of the fact that she saved the world. At the same time, she tries not to be _incredibly guilty_ about the fact that Clark almost died from Kryptonite poisoning as a result. After all, Clark _refused_ to let her apologize - he said that, in his opinion, she did the right thing.

They haven't seen each other very much over the last few days. Clark has been playing Superman at nearly all hours, and Lois has been covering his news just as constantly.

She has been hoping that he will eventually calm down, and then, everything will _really_ return to "normal" for the two of them, in particular. And not just _any_ _old_ "normal." Normal, as in: being a real couple… one that does things together without being interrupted by life or death situations at every turn.

Because their lives _should_ be that way, at this point. Especially now that Lois isn't stuck in Qurac, and Clark isn't having nightmares, and Zod is back in the Phantom Zone. Haven't so many issues been resolved by now?

Indeed, life has been throwing a slew of curveballs at their relationship lately. And Lois is tired of it. She wants a little peace and quiet, for once. Wants a lack of catastrophes.

Or at least, a lack of _major_ catastrophes.

Meanwhile, Lois catches the human trafficker that she was tailing, and exposes the cult of goat sacrificers. The latter was definitely one of her weirder stories, but then again, she was the first person to definitively report alien existence, so maybe it's not her _weirdest._

And though publishing those articles was satisfying, it would have be nicer if she and Clark could actually meet up afterwards. But he remains busy, and… a little distant… she supposes. But she figures it's just the current circumstances.

One night, Clark is cleaning up an oil spill in the Mediterranean Sea, so Lois figures she'll be eating alone in terms of dinner. But at this point, she has been eating alone far too often. So she grabs her jacket and her purse, and heads to Bibbo's bar for some company.

The Ace O'Clubs bar is definitely not situated in a "nice" part of Metropolis. It's right on the edge of Hob's Bay, in an area with a high incidence of muggings and murders. That high incidence is actually why Emil Hamilton shot her so close to the bar last year. If her body was found, everyone would assume that the killer was just some desperate, trigger-happy mugger, not a Nobel-Laureate like Hamilton. Nonetheless, if he hadn't shot her so close to Bibbo's living space, Lois probably would not have survived, and Clark would still be captured.

Thus, Lois ignores the smell of fish and rotting wood as she walks along the docks toward the front of the bar. The whole building seems to be made of rusted metal, and the sign is no exception. Lois wonders how long it'll be before that sign, which has letters illuminated by feebly flickering bulbs, tears off the wall and topples to the ground.

She has even offered Bibbo funds intended to fixed the place up. But he adamantly denied her generosity, claiming that repairs would ruin the bar's "charm."

The bar has _something_, but it's certainly not "charm." In fact, if she's being honest, she'd say that the bar is far more likely to possess "asbestos" instead.

As she approaches the front doors, a grimy looking sailor exits, and he ogles Lois in that way that most women know too well, and _hate_ quite passionately. Even worse, alcohol is redolent on his breath, and even though he stands several feet from her, it burns her nostrils.

The guy hasn't continued walking out, instead deciding to stand right beside the front door that Lois is heading toward. Thus, she will be forced to pass him as she enters the building - which is his intention, of course.

Lois seriously hopes that he won't be _gross_ and say something offensive, like men in the city so frequently do. It's really the last thing she needs.

But her hope ultimately goes unfulfilled.

"Baby...dat izzz one niceeee rack," the man slurs in his drunkenness.

Lois stops and shoots him a piercing glare. Then, she tells him quite bitingly: "Nah, it's just my bra. I need one big enough to store my revolver. Wanna see it? Of course… I mean the revolver, not the bra."

Lois doesn't actually have a gun stored in her bra, but when she tells guys that she does, they generally become a little less intrusive.

Unsurprisingly, her words immediately silence him, and Lois happily proceeds inside with a pointed flip of her hair.

"Heya, Miss Lane!" Bibbo calls to her as he enters. Currently, he is cleaning out a shot glass with the dirtiest rag Lois has ever seen. She reminds herself to buy a bottle of beer, so she won't have to use his probably poisonous serving supplies.

"Hey Bibbo! How's business been?" she asks with a smile, taking a seat at one the stools. By the look of the near-empty bar, the answer is implicitly "_not good_." But Lois is determined to keep this place in business, for Bibbo's sake. She'll buy as many beers as necessary to do so.

Bibbo Bibbowski is truly one of the best people she knows - very generous and protective, though a bit rough around the edges. He was instrumental in getting both Lois and Clark out of a tough spot last year, when Emil Hamilton came so close to _literally_ destroying their lives.

He shrugs. "The bar's been okie dokie. Had a helluva mess last nigh' though."

"Why?"

"Some asshead wuz talking shit about Superman. Kept sayin' that he was an alien monster or sumthin. So I punched his lights out, and then threw the guy outta the place."

"Jeez, Bibbo," Lois breathes. "There'll be no charges, I hope?"

This wouldn't be the first time someone has threatened a lawsuit against Bibbo for being a bit aggressive. Luckily, Lois was able to sort out previous problems by finding evidence against the charges (and the chargers)...but like she pointed out, that was luck. She may not be able to rescue him again.

Though she might have reacted the same way, in Bibbo's position.

He dismisses the notion with a wave of his hand. "Nah! Guy like that - he wouldn't want the police sniffin' in his business. 'Sides, he deserved it. Supes has done nothing but good for this city. Nothing but good…"

_Maybe too much good lately,_ Lois thinks internally, remembering the reason why she is here as she takes a sip of the beer that Bibbo has placed before her.

Bibbo squints at her. "Are you alrigh', Miss Lane?"

She raises her eyebrow. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. You seem less talky than usual - you always come in her rantin 'bout something. And where's your man? The feller with the glasses?"

Lois shrugs too. "Probably dealing with something important. He's a busy guy."

"Girl like you deserves the best," Bibbo remarks, causing Lois to smile. "I dunno why you and Supes never got together. You'd probably be good for each other. Better than the glasses feller anyway."

Lois almost spits out her beer, laughing.

* * *

This isn't the first time that Clark has heard the sound. It's high pitched, whirring, like a drill into his eardrums. Definitely artificial, though - he can tell. There's always something about unnatural, manmade frequencies that he can just _hear_. A rhythm, perhaps, in tune with the wattage of the machine that produces them.

As Clark flies back into Metropolis, the sound of whining dogs is also audible, all throughout the city. Obviously, the frequency is noticeable to them too - and just as painful. He doesn't blame them for reacting adversely to the sound... it's probably four-hundred times louder than a dog whistle, which can be monumentally annoying to any animal with sensitive ears - such as Kryptonians and canines.

Immediately, Clark realizes that Lex Luthor must be trying to contact him - the billionaire is the only person who possesses a machine specially built to emit frequencies that _Superman_ can hear. In fact, he has used it before, during the start of Superman's career. Clark remembers the conversation they shared like it occurred only minutes ago.

"_A being with your abilities… could make a substantial fortune, if you chose the right path,"_ Lex told him, his green eyes glinting like poison in the light of the window. "_I can show you that path._"

"_Is that so?"_ Clark challenged back, more than suspiciously. At that point, he was already aware that Lex was responsible for Lois's shooting. Once Clark responded to Lex's signal and entered the Lexcorp building, his purpose was clear. He didn't even need to hear Lex's full offer to know that he was going to reject it.

Lex looked perturbed by Clark's tone, but continued nonetheless. "_Think of all that you can accomplish, in terms of improving the world, by removing obstacles against peace and tranquility. And I will compensate you marvelously for the removal of those obstacles."_

"_Obstacles, Lex? What's your definition of 'obstacle?' World leaders with whom you don't agree? Anyone who questions your decisions? Or tries to expose you?"_

Lex's eyebrows furrowed. "_What are _you _implying?"_

"_It's clear that you've been spying on me. Which shouldn't necessarily be surprising, given the fact that you encouraged the army to attack me. But luckily, I also know some important, normally secret things about you. I know that you deal illegal arms all around the world, especially within Metropolis."_

Lex chuckled. "_There are other weapons producers in the world, you know. Just because I'm the best doesn't mean that I'm the source of the world's ills."_

"_This isn't an assumption. This is a fact," _Clark declared. "_Your illicit actions are responsible for thousands of avoidable deaths per year. So this is my counteroffer to yours: either you stop illegally selling weapons to criminals, and stop trying to incite panic about me, or I come after you and make you stop."_

"_How dare you, you alien-"_

At that point in the conversation, Clark flew off, leaving the insult-slinging Lex behind.

Now, as Clark reenters Lex's office, he is stricken by the fact that so much has changed between the two men, though under the surface. Back then, Clark barely knew Lex - had never shared more than a few unfriendly words with him. But now, he has been to press conference after press conference of Lex's, has had hostile encounters with him while Clark was with Lois, has staked out his arms deals, and well… has now become somewhat indebted to Lex on top of that.

Because now… now Lex has indirectly saved both Clark's and Lois's lives. Whether Clark decides to act on that gratitude… still remains in question. Clark's moral compass might prevent him from letting Lex's long-term transgressions slide, but at the same time, might Lex's recent attempts to save lives evidence a change in person? Could Lex be realizing the error of his ways?

Clark cannot stand idle if Lex continues to do evil… but he has enough faith in humanity to consider the possibility that Lex could turn good. And if Lex does decide to change, well… Clark hopes that the hostilities end between them.

But then again, Clark is not naive. He knows that possibility is very unlikely. Because eyes like Lex's… they tend to show everything… every depraved thought bubbling in his mind. Clark is not a judgemental person - he prefers to see the best in people. But something about Lex _screams_ nefarity.

And unless Lex takes responsibility for previous crimes… well, Clark will never be able to fully believe that Lex has changed his ways.

But... Lex _did_ save Lois, and in many ways, the world. So doesn't that mean something?

Yes… it does. Which is why Clark is granting him this visit now, even though, a few months ago, he wouldn't have thought twice about ignoring Lex's call.

"We need to talk," Lex says in a solemn voice as Clark swoops in through the window. Lex is seated at his desk, his hands tucked under his chin in a pensive manner. Somehow, the stance lacks confidence - which is surprising, considering its disparity with the manner by which Lex normally holds himself.

Clark doesn't say anything in response. He'll wait to discover Lex's intentions. And for that reason, they stand in quietude for at least five minutes, just staring each other down.

Then, suddenly, Lex asks: "Did you resent my decision to give Lois the Kryptonite?"

"Of course not," Clark replies. "It saved her life. Everyone's lives."

There is another beat of silence. Then, Lex chuckles, the sound filled with a mix of derision and bitterness. "It's truly incredible."

"What's incredible?"

"How unbelievably _idiotic_ you are."

Clark's eyes flare red, and Lex flinches slightly at the sight. By now, Clark _should_ be used to Lex insulting him like this. But unfortunately, Clark has always been vulnerable to other people's opinions. It's the same reason why, for so long, he was so reluctant to reveal himself to the world. He cares too much about people, especially about how people think and feel, and dreaded their potential ridicule, ostracization, and fear of him. And Lex seems to embody all of those things, even if the rest of the world feels differently.

Nonetheless, with effort, Clark calms his anger, and his eyes return to their normal color. He does so by telling himself that Lex is _not_ the majority, and Lex's opinion, in the grand scheme of things, isn't going to hurt Clark.

"If you're here to just insult me, then I'm leaving. I have far better things to do than speak to you," Clark grits out as he turns back toward the window, prepared to fly off.

"You're misunderstanding me."

"Then cut the arrogance and crypticism, and get to the point."

"How can you fail to see the problem? Tell me, Kent. If you weren't in her life, would Lois Lane even _need_ Kryptonite to protect herself from Zod?"

Clark scrutinizes him. "What are you talking about?"

"How is it that I am the only one who can foresee that _you_ are going to be the _death _of her_?_" Lex yells. "There are seven billion people on this planet. And every time someone like Mongul or General Zod targets you, out of everyone, she is most likely to be in their crosshairs. And when they come to hurt her, or make you choose between her and the world, more likely than not… you will choose the world… and she'll _die_."

Clark is struck silent by Lex's words. These are things that Clark has always avoided considering. Things that he _still_ doesn't want to consider. And because they're coming from Lex, a significant part of Clark especially feels inclined to dismiss them. But grudge aside… Clark can recognize that Lex, at the current moment, is not wrong.

"If she wasn't with you, she'd have the same chances of dying as each of the 7 billion people on Earth. But because she _is_ with you, and has no powers to protect herself, she is in far more danger than even _you_ \- the alien who fights other aliens - can boast."

"So what? You'd prefer for her to be with you? Is that it? Lex, that's her decision, not mine," Clark argues, but the words sound a bit juvenile, even to him. Because Lex is right. If it wasn't for Clark's relationship with her, Lois would not have been targeted by Zod. She wouldn't even be targeted by half the villains trying to get to Superman, through her.

"I don't care who she's with, as long as she's _alive_. You two have been sloppy and careless from the start. Despite your not-so-believable pretenses, half the city has correctly guessed that Lois Lane is romantically involved with Superman. Which means that every maniac with a grudge against _you_ will feel compelled to attack _her_, for good measure. It's what I would do, if I didn't care about her so damn much."

There's ice in Clark's veins. Every ounce of his being is telling him to ignore these words, these facts. But Clark's brain, as much as he wants to ignore it, is agreeing wholeheartedly with Lex's logic. And that shouldn't be the case - Lex is the _enemy_. He doesn't want Lois and Clark to be together as it is.

But Lex also cares about Lois. And recently, she almost _died_ because of Clark's carelessness. Isn't it sensible to assume that Lex is acting in Lois's interest? He's afraid for her and telling Clark the reasons why.

And they're good reasons.

Dammit, dammit, _dammit_.

"A part of you has realized this. You must have - otherwise, you wouldn't be avoiding her as much as you have lately. It's obvious that you feel guilty that you didn't anticipate Zod's attack on her."

"Of course I feel guilty! But what exactly do you suggest I do?" Clark demands, fearing the answer. But he knows. He knows what he _should_ do.

"You end it with her."

"I can't do that."

"For her safety, you end it. If you cared about her at all, you wouldn't hesitate. Even I'd do it, in your position."

"Lex, I love her. I can't-"

"Exactly my point. She loves you back, of course. No matter what I say to you or to her. And you know what? That's how I figured it out in the first place," Lex tells him bitterly.

"Figured what out?"

"Your identity. That Superman and Clark Kent are one and the same," Lex says, fixing the cuffs on his suit, as if he is uncomfortable. "As much as I like to pretend that I ran extensive background checks on you to discover the truth… that's not the case. It was the way she looked at you, at the charity gala last year. I've known Lois Lane for some time now, and she had never looked at _anyone_ like that before. And Lois… she's always looking for the extraordinary. For the impossible in people. And if she chose to look at _you_ that way - you, her mere co-worker, Clark Kent - then I knew there had to be more to you. And that's when I started investigating. That's when I put together the pieces."

There is silence in the room yet again. Clark has never asked how Lex learned his identity. He always figured that Lex, being a genius, was just _too_ observant. That he had the resources and the brainpower to see through Clark's lie, same as Lois did.

"I'm one of the most powerful men in the world, and I've been utterly upstaged by the one thing that could be considered superior - you," Lex mumbles. "But… now I see that you're _not_ better. You'd let her die to entertain your own desires. You'd ruin her life time and time again, with catastrophes and stress and the inevitable obstacles that arise from a relationship between an alien and a human."

Clark doesn't know how to answer him. So he just stares helplessly.

"She'll never end it. Because for her, being with you is selfless. Being with you is supporting Superman, the Earth's savior. But for you... _not_ being with her is the selfless thing to do. If you end it - quickly, painlessly - you'll save her. And that's what you like, isn't it? To save people?"

Lex is looking him directly in the eyes, challenging him to act.

"She'll never have to carry kryptonite again. She'll move on, with someone human. Have a long happy life, free of your burden. Isn't that what you what?"

This is _wrong_. Lois...Clark… they're happy together. Doesn't that mean that they're meant to be with one another? It _must_, Clark thinks desperately. _Doesn't it?_

"You can't be '_Superman'_ and 'in love,'" Lex continues. "Love, though pleasurable, is a weakness."

Every danger that Lois has encountered in recent months… the attacks by supervillains, the potential threat of his nightmares, the crystal robots at the fortress, Zod, and the Phantom Zone portal - they've all been his fault. And every time, he has just _barely_ managed to save her. What if, next time, he is too late? What if he could ensure her safety by simply just not being a part of her life?

He chose to be Superman. Which means that, if necessary, he will sacrifice himself for humanity. But he never agreed to drag Lois down with him. That outcome… he cannot live with.

Maybe, in an ideal situation - a situation in which he is merely Clark Kent, not an alien and not Superman - he can receive a happily ever after. But his life is far from that ideal.

As the gears in Clark's head continue to turn, Lex's arguments continue as well.

"And if Zod has proven anything, it's that Superman cannot _afford_ to be weak."

* * *

Everything is fine, Lois assures herself. Sure, maybe Clark hasn't been back to the apartment in two nights, and hasn't been answering Lois's calls. But that probably doesn't mean anything serious. So she stops calling and decides to let things work themselves out. It's not like he's hurt. She sees him at work in passing, even though he almost always goes out on assignment.

She tells herself that he's just busy - that being Superman is occupying him far too much. That maybe there's a _ton _of disasters for him to deal with, and right now, Lois cannot be at the top of his priorities.

Everything is fine.

* * *

On the third night, Lois dejectedly unlocks the door of the apartment, allowing it to swing open before her. She drags herself into the room, and startles as she discovers Clark sitting on the couch, still wearing his Superman costume.

It seems like he is planning on going out, which is odd to Lois. Mostly because this is the first time he has been home in a while, and for that reason, shouldn't he be planning to stay in?

"Um...hello," Lois flounders, staring at him in disbelief and, if she's honest with herself, _complete anger_. "Where the hell have you been?"

He is staring at his hands, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet her own. This sort of behavior, from him, always means that he is guilty about something. What exactly he is guilty about, she has yet to know.

"What's going on?" she asks, trying to ignore the fact that she wants to _yell_ at him for being so secretive lately, for ignoring her calls, for ignoring her in general. They've recently been through some serious life-and-death situations, and yes, she'll admit - she _needed_ him here. They both almost died, and she can't tell anyone about what happened, so yeah - it'd be nice to have someone with whom to discuss her real emotional status. But he hasn't been _here_ at all.

The bitterness bleeds into her voice anyway. Maybe he can tell. Maybe she wants him to notice it.

"Can we talk?" Clark requests suddenly, still not meeting her eyes. His voice is soft - reluctant, even. The kind of voice that sounds so sad and (to her) so beautiful that it makes her want to cry. The kind that makes her forget his refusal to answer her questions, and the kind that makes her okay with that refusal, for some ungodly reason.

And God, he always makes her feel this way. He makes her feel this way because he's perfect, and for that reason, it's always like _she's_ the problem. Not him. Never him. How could _he_ be the problem? He's Superman, for crying out loud!

But he has been ignoring her for no reason. And hell yes, Lois is angry at him. Furious, even. That's not something a 'perfect' boyfriend would do.

"Good suggestion," Lois retorts. "Care to explain where you've been? I mean, you haven't talked me in days."

He is silent for a few seconds before he softly replies: "I know."

"You _know?_" Lois repeats. "Somehow that makes it worse. You _knew_ that you forgot about me, and just didn't care?"

"I swear I cared. I've just been…" He sighs. "I've been doing some thinking."

"You sure? Because if you were _thinking_, you wouldn't have left me in the dark like this."

Finally, he looks up at her. He's bracing himself for something. Maybe he's expecting her to really go off on him, which she just might.

Maybe it's something else.

"Lois, the past few days have taught me some things," he informs her gently. "I've been able to accomplish a lot more as Superman...by refusing to let me my human ties drag me down."

Lois blinks, her mind unable to process his words. "'Human ties?' What the hell are you talking about? Clark, you've always tried to be human-"

"I've always _tried_, you're right. But maybe I've been thinking… that I shouldn't…"

He gulps. She keeps blinking.

"I…" Lois stammers, shakes her head, and then keeps talking. "I'm not understanding what you're saying."

"Every minute that I'm here, playing Clark Kent, I could be saving someone else. Protecting the city. And you, if I'm here - you'll always be in danger. So from now on, I think it'd be best if Superman pretends to be Clark Kent, instead of the other way around," Clark explains.

"But you _are _Clark," Lois disagrees, still not quite grasping his message.

"I don't think that should be the case anymore."

"So..._what_? I don't really see how this changes anything. Clark Kent and Superman aren't separate entities. I fell in love with _you_, not one side of you."

Clark sighs again. "Lois, Superman can't-" His voice cracks, and he restarts. "Superman _can't_ have a girlfriend. Which is why, right now, I think it'd be best for us both if we-"

That's when everything crashes down on Lois. Crashes down like a satellite, plummeting to Earth on top of her. Because this isn't just some big revelation about his purpose in life. It's a revelation about _how_ he wants to live his life. And apparently, he doesn't want to live it with _her_ anymore.

No one has broken up with Lois before. There have been screaming, fighting, mutual-dislike breakups between her and past boyfriends. There have been one night stands with quick escapes in taxis. And there have been breakups by phone, by text message, by email, and in person, all with Lois as the perpetrator.

But Clark, the first person that she has ever truly, really loved in that mushy, ideal romantic sort of way, is standing here, telling her that he doesn't love her back.

The room actually spins around her. She can't do anything but stare helplessly and yell, like a child, "Don't you dare, Clark Kent! _Please_ don't say that, damn you!"

No one in the room speaks for at several minutes. They just stare at one another with a mixture of apprehension and despair. And suddenly, to Lois, it's like the world has become remarkably fragile. Like a single word from his mouth with shatter it into nothingness.

Soon enough, tears are springing into her eyes, and her terrified feet begin backing away from him, because _no_. He can't do this. He just _can't_. She has invested too much of _herself…_ of her _trust_ … of her _love_ in him, in this relationship. And she can't watch him throw it all away like last week's leftovers. She can't, she can't, _she can't_! And maybe if she keeps backing up, she won't have to hear him finish his sentence.

He stops looking at her, pointedly redirecting his gaze toward the floor. His jaw is clenched, and something about his features suggest that what his words are hard to articulate, but if they are, then why is he saying them at all? Why can't they just be in love and keep moving forward? Weren't they in love a few days ago?

Were? _Were_? No, they're _still_ in love. What's with the past tense? Why has she already accepted this? Lois Lane doesn't give up. Not this easily, anyway.

"I'm not even human, Lois," he tells her, still looking at the goddamn floor, because he must be lying or playing a prank or something awful that they'll laugh about later. Right? Right. Of course. "Keeping on the way we have… it's not fair to me or _you_."

"Fair?" Lois blusters. "I love you. And if anything you've said over the last year is true, you're supposed to love me back. So how is it fair for you, after everything, to say this to me now?"

He's not looking at her, even as he stands and approaches her tentatively. God, what is this? What _is_ this?

This is some sort of nightmare. Something has gone terribly wrong with Lois's life, and she doesn't know what it is. She asked for the catastrophes to end, and here is her biggest one in years, if not ever. Because she _loves_ him. Because she figured that, so long as they were together, they'd make it through anything. But together is apparently the last thing he wants them to be.

"Lois… please… don't make this harder than it has to be," Clark pleads.

"How could this _not_ be hard, dammit?" Lois demands. "I can't believe that this is what you want. It can't be! After everything, it can't be."

He's not looking at her. And she won't believe him until he does.

"Would you look me in the eye, for Christ's sake!" she screams, nearly pulling her own hair out.

It takes perhaps ten seconds. But then, finally, his eyes slide away from the floor and onto her face. Then onto her own eyes. And his eyes have always been perfect, always been beautiful. Like little gems, sapphires, infused with a unique electricity that is utterly captivating.

And he looks right at her when he confidently declares: "This is what I want, Lois. I want to take a break. I want to pursue my life on my own, from now on. Can't you respect that?"

That's when she realizes that he _is_ serious. That this the end. That every bit of her heart that she gave to him is practically being returned in a cardboard box, dumped on her front lawn. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. Undesirably. And he's demanding the bits of his hearts back - even when she's unwilling to hand them over.

And, of course, right then, the tears fully come. She's crying like an idiot because this _hurts._ Hurts like a bitch. Hurts more than she ever imagined a break-up would. Because she loves him more than she has ever loved anyone.

"So this is it, huh?" Lois says between sobs, desperately dragging her sleeve over wet eyes. "We're over? The end?"

He closes his eyes and nods solemnly.

Somehow, she seems to cry even harder. It's humiliating. She never meant for him to have this much _power_ of her heart...but that's the problem with love. It leaves you open to betrayal.

He reaches out to touch her shoulder, and she jerks away from him, fearing that physical contact will break her heart even more. But he still keeps moving forward, and throws his arms around her. She feels him press his lips to her temple (for what, the last time? She can't believe it. She can't.) They've always been perfect lips. Too damn perfect. Maybe she'll grow to hate them.

When he pulls away, she stands numbly in place, the room still spinning around her. A part of her registers that he is gone - that he has left the room via super speed or maybe even normal speed, but she was just too preoccupied with her own misery to notice his departure.

She keeps crying for a while. Eventually, amidst her tears, she drags herself to bed. When she wakes, all of his belongings have been moved out of the apartment.

* * *

Clark has never flown to space before. But right now, it feels appropriate.

Sound doesn't carry in the vacuum, and soundlessness is what he needs. So he flies toward the stars, tears in his eyes. The temperatures are so _cold_ up here (another thing that seems appropriate to Clark) and those water droplets start to freeze. He has no choice but to brush them away. But the lack of ice in his eyes does not make him feel warmer.

Then, when he is far enough from Earth, he silently screams into the void. Screams continuously as he clutches the sides of his head and rocks back and forth.

After some time, his yells use up all the oxygen in his lungs, and only hollow, empty things are left behind. Because that's all he is right now. That's how he _feels_. Like a hollow, empty _thing_.

He couldn't look at her as he lied to her face. Couldn't listen to her as she cried in their (their? No, it's just hers now) apartment once he left. Couldn't hear the way her heartbeat sped up in disbelief and fury.

Every beat of that organ seemed to tear his own to pieces. Not undeservingly, either. She will never forgive him for this.

But after days of consideration, he has decided that this is for the best. That for once, Lex was right.

Thus, Clark feels like absolute garbage, but he keeps telling himself that this was the right thing to do.

It hurts, but she's safe, he assures himself. She'll move on and her life will be better without him. He'll be Superman at almost all times, and won't cause her any more anguish.

His happiness is not worth losing her. She has so much to offer the world. She doesn't need him.

In the morning after, he returns to Earth and removes his belongings from the apartment while she sleeps (in their - her - bed). There are pictures on the walls of them, together, that he considers taking as well. But they're not technically _just_ his - they mutually decided to put them up, and she has just as much right, if not more so, to own them as he does.

So he leaves them. He figures there's no harm in doing that. After all, when she stops loving him, he hopes that she will remember that she once did.

Lois is still fast asleep when he leaves, clutching the pillow that he normally sleeps on. It takes all of his willpower to prevent himself from climbing in next to her, begging for forgiveness and pleading momentary insanity.

But he doesn't.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO RELATED**

**A/N: I have never written anything more painful in my entire goddamn life. **  
**I'm sorry about this. This is horrible. This is unbearable. This is 100% necessary for the plot, though, and I hated writing it as much as you guys probably hated reading it. **  
**Will they get back together? Keep reading to find out!**  
**I literally had to put on sad breakup music to even so much as start writing this. It took me a full month to start this chapter, because of how much I didn't want to write it.  
Please don't leave me angry reviews. I know you're sad. I am too. We're all suffering together. **


	51. Chapter Seventeen - Changes

_CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - CHANGES_

Metropolis hotels are always so clean - so modern. Every surface is sleek… material sliced out of glass or smooth metal, perfectly level in its place. Bright flowers in vases, red and blue and yellow (Metropolis's favorite colors, apparently), meet the eye from almost every angle. Huge panoramic windows are more common than walls, and they display the sprawling, gleaming city skyline.

Floors shiny and waxed, not a trace of footprints - they must be cleaned regularly, of course. With bleach, perhaps? No, there's a perfume. Something artificial, but not bleach. But it's strong - applied recently. Maybe every two hours. Floors like these would make investigating difficult if this were a crime scene. Luckily, it's not - but then again, it would be foolish to underestimate Lex Luthor.

Gotham hotels are always darker - gloomier. Fewer windows, unlike the huge one in this room. Gotham isn't something to show off. There is too much smog, and the Gothic architecture is somewhat nightmarish, rife with gargoyles and spires. Intimidating in a good way, though. Everything looks older - tougher… resolute, like an elderly brute shaking its fist at the sky.

There, nothing is cleaned as often. Cleanliness is not one of Gotham's virtues. And even if one scrubs and scrubs, a sheen of grit seems to cling to every surface. Building materials are hardy substances - bricks or concrete. Not very attractive, but they last through time and nature's wrath. Angles in Gotham's walls seem harsher, sharper. And people there certainly don't care for flowers. Gotham is too urban - the only time they're seen is perhaps at funerals. But flowers never look beautiful in those settings.

Bruce Wayne sits on one side of a long, glass conference table (he supposes glass is good for fingerprints if some must be collected). Currently, he is located in the Halldorf Hotel - one of Metropolis's most famous locations - where he is flanked by a team of arrogant-faced, overpriced lawyers. The table is filled with breakfast foods - exotic forms of classic dishes, like French Toast Souffle, Red Velvet Pancakes, etc. Bruce hasn't touched any of them. The lawyers, taking his cue, have not either. Somehow it seems like a sign of weakness. Instead, they sit erect, hands folded on the table. Bruce, meanwhile, leans back with crossed arms, his expression decidedly irritated.

Opposite himself, in an equally expensive suit to the one he currently wears, is Alexander Luthor. Lex, for short. (Interesting, why someone with his inflated ego prefers 'Lex' and not Alexander. His given name is the same as that of Alexander the Great - a person who ruled a significant portion of the world for a considerable amount of time. Lex would probably want to emulate that. But perhaps he prefers to bask in his own glory, and not that of historic figures?)

Bruce doesn't have a lot of experience with megalomaniacs. Most of the time, he deals with sadists, ecoterrorists, petty thieves, street criminals, or (sadly) the mentally ill. But someone like Lex - he practically radiates a sense of superiority. It's visible in his eyes - their challenging green glint like he is daring the world to be more intelligent than he is, and knows that it will not succeed. And with everything Bruce has discovered about Lex, he fears that he might be right - that Lex may really be the smartest man in the world, and that makes him remarkably dangerous.

"I think we hardly came here for a staring contest, Bruce," Lex drawls, glancing at the Lexcorp lawyers on either side of himself. "I'm sure you have a party that you're eager to attend. A supermodel with whom to go skinny dipping. Your parents' money to burn. "

Lex's lawyers chuckle heartily at the joke. Oh, if they only knew what Bruce does with his nights. They probably wouldn't be inclined to laugh.

One of them is not laughing, though. There's a woman by the door - tall, but curvy. Her hair is dyed back, and her face is marked by a perpetual scowl. Some assistant to Lex, perhaps? Bruce makes a mental note.

But this negotiation has the bulk of Bruce's attention, so he tears his eyes away from her.

He normally pretends to be so good-natured, for the sake of his reputation, but he will not show that sort of attitude toward Lex. Not when so much is at stake.

"You're one to talk. If I'm recalling correctly, your money was also inherited," Bruce points out, raising his eyebrows daringly.

At the mention of his inheritance, a sneer momentarily crosses Lex's face. _An indication of a poor relationship with his family, most likely his father, _Bruce postulates internally. But it fades quickly. It must be something that Lex desires to hide, which means that it could be advantageous information.

"Bruce," Lex says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Whereas you are frivolous, I am industrious. Almost every dime I make goes to my company, or back to the world community. I don't spend my fortune on fancy cars or vacation house."

By examining the expensive nature of Lex's suit (easily identifiable as designer cashmere imported from overseas) Bruce knows that this claim is a lie. Further, Lex's statement has also been disproved by a series of files that he lifted from Lexcorp, before the virtual breach he exploited was promptly sealed. At this point, Bruce _knows_ Lex has a wide variety of clandestine, morally-questionable personal projects. One of those projects has even caused this current headache for Bruce - this patent battle.

But of course, Bruce isn't supposed to know so much about Lex. He has to be careful to avoid showing off his intellectual abilities, for secrecy's sake.

Lex is a weapons-maker. A gun distributor. That alone would cement Bruce's dislike of him, regardless of the man's superiority complex. But now that Lex has stolen a Waynetech technological design, and has plans to weaponize it...well...now Bruce is prepared to fight him at every opportunity.

"My company manages to find success without producing killing machines, Lex. In that respect, I don't think our activities are really comparable."

Silence envelopes the room for a few moments, the palpable antagonism rendering everyone speechless. Eventually, however, a lawyer clears her throat to break the spell. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but may we begin? I'm sure you're both very busy men, with other important matters to attend to… This should be fairly quick."

Both men nod brusquely, never taking hateful eyes off one another.

"Lexcorp has agreed to settle the alleged patent infringement with a payment of one hundred million dollars," the lawyer continues. "If you accept, that is."

The lawyers beside Bruce turn to him excitedly, wide smiles splayed across their faces. Evidently, to them, this offer is better than they could have hoped for. And truly, as a businessman, Bruce can recognize that the proposition is immensely tempting.

But a settlement will not prevent Lexcorp from infringing on the patent further. And this offer, if anything, is an attempt to keep Bruce quiet so that Lex can continue developing the stolen technologies into weapons without interference.

Bruce will not allow that to happen.

"Take it, Mr. Wayne," the lawyer to his right whispers. "Take the offer."

Then, with finality, Bruce replies, "No."

The Wayne Enterprises lawyers all groan. Lex's jaw drops ever so slightly, and his eyes widen. "_No_? I'm offering you more than the courts would ever demand of my company, and yet...you still want to continue the suit. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Mr, Wayne," the lawyer to his right once again whispers - urgently. "The point of a patent lawsuit is to _settle_."

He smirks sardonically at the lawyer, who obviously thinks Bruce is as stupid as the papers portray him. "Is it, now?" he asks sarcastically.

Then, Bruce turns back to Lex. He puts on a show - throws in some snark, per his playboy style. He has a facade to maintain, after all, and Lex Luthor is the last person he needs to see through it.

"Tell you what, Lex. I'll settle the suit for… say… a _billion_ dollars." One of Lex's lawyers utters a curse. Bruce continues speaking regardless. "That much, and I'm out of your nonexistent hair."

"A _billion_? That amount's ludicrous! We haven't even profited off the designs!" A different Lexcorp lawyer shouts in disbelief.

"But that's exactly why he's asking for it," Lex remarks with amusement, staring at Bruce like someone seeing a monkey that has miraculously learned to speak. It's not uncommon for Bruce to be looked at in this way. Most people see Bruce Wayne as an idiotic playboy, bred from a rich family, with no concept of personal responsibility. And as much as Bruce substantiates their impressions for his own sake, It is yet another thing about which people are woefully incorrect.

Lex continues, chuckling: "He's making an unacceptable offer because he wants the courts to have a final say. Truly, Bruce, are you so foolish? You won't _win_ in the courts. Our settlement offer is more than you could hope for."

Bruce stands brusquely, his chair scraping those pristine floors. The Wayne Enterprises lawyers are still incredulous… still gaping at Bruce like he has lost his mind, so it takes them a while to follow his lead. While he waits for them to do so, he smooths out his suit jacket, and then speaks forcefully.

"Those designs were for _adaptive prosthetic limbs_. They're for _medical purposes _\- I won't let you turn them into weapons, Lex. And if I need a court order for you to leave those designs alone, I'll get one," Bruce promises.

"Not likely. Measuring probabilities, our legal teams are most likely equal in prowess - the best that money can buy, so to speak. So chances are, this case will go to the supreme court. And I have more friends in Washington than you do."

In that respect, Lex may, unfortunately, be right - Lex can give weapons discounts to the government, who in turn can give Lex judicial sway. Of course, Bruce does not acknowledge that fact. Instead, he storms out of the room, past the scowling woman, with his lawyers scrambling to follow him.

The lawyers proceed to bother him as he strolls toward the elevator. One demands, "Bruce! What the hell are you doing? The board would have wanted you-"

"Forget the board. Business isn't the issue here," he dismisses them. "This is about making sure our research doesn't end up in the wrong hands."

"But Wayne Enterprises is _not_ a social service - it _is_, above all, a business! Its main focus is profit, which that settlement would have given us. Who cares about whether he makes guns out of-"

Bruce spins around and glares pointedly at that lawyer. His voice is practically a growl, and his gaze is so dark and intense that he sees the lawyer wince.

"I. care. about. guns," Bruce grits out, resisting the urge to fire this man on the spot. "I paid for the creation of those designs. And I won't have blood on my hands because Lex stole them. I _won't_ partake in that sort of negligence."

With that, Bruce departs from the lawyers and heads to the ground floor. His butler Alfred is waiting outside, in a sleek black limousine parked at the curb. He enters hastily and orders Alfred to drive away immediately.

"I take it that Mr. Luthor's offer has been denied?" Alfred asks, his British-accented voice audible above the sounds of traffic. The answer, of course, is obvious. But the balding, gray-haired butler values sarcasm almost as much as he values classical music and theater, so such behavior is customary to Bruce by now.

"Quite rudely too. It was very satisfying," Bruce replies with a slight smirk. "Is that the paper?"

He is referring to the copy of _the Daily Planet _held in Alfred's hands. Promptly, Alfred hands it over, and Bruce peruses the front page.

"'_Superman Saves Crashing Bus_ by Lois Lane," Bruce reads. "Must be nice. Having powers like that. Must be even nicer to be so idealized by the media."

"Is that jealousy I detect, Master Wayne?"

"Not at all. Metropolis is _not_ Gotham. The cities have different needs. Superman serves his purpose here, and the Batman serves his purpose in Gotham."

Bruce is a man of many secrets. Of many tragedies inextricably connected with the soul of his home city. Perhaps the most intriguing of all is the legend that he has singlehandedly built in the Gotham streets - the Legend of the Batman. It took years for him to develop his skills, to make the dream of fighting Gotham's crime a reality. And it was surreal, taking the steps that he did - becoming a mythic, demonic creature that stalks the night under cowl and cape. Little do the criminals know that the man under the cape is so mortal that he requires layers upon layers of body armor. They _incorrectly_ think of him as inhuman and ferocious, and their fear keeps the streets clean. The situation is so different, Bruce remarks, from Metropolis - where they take _pride_ in not only sheltering a nonhuman alien, but also that alien's adoption of human traits.

"Do you really think Mr. Luthor is going to try to murder Superman?" Alfred asks, sounding skeptical. "It seems like an extreme, if not impossible, course of action."

Bruce continues looking at the byline of the article, only half listening to Alfred. But even with half his consciousness on other matters, he is still attentive enough to respond.

"If his files are any indication… then yes...that's Lex's intention. And I plan to stop him. Because if I don't… the effects could be catastrophic."

* * *

Lois stares at the little check with disdain, a sour taste in her mouth. She wonders if anyone else looks at checks with such blatant dislike and resentment - like the money is an insult, rather than a benefit. But Lois isn't just _anyone._ And the sender of the check… well, he is more complicated than Lois cares to think about these days.

She can see the neat scrawl of his handwriting across the designated lines; the perfect carving of his signature with a fine blue pen. _Clark Joseph Kent. _The signature is all curls and flair - like him, she supposes.

Lois finds these _dumb_ checks in her mailbox every few weeks, like monthly gifts - always right on time, so conscientious about the payment amounts and schedules. She'd appreciate them more if they didn't make her feel vaguely empty inside. Because, really, how is a _check_ supposed to make-up for what she used to have? How is this arrangement sensible at all? She hates it. What's even worse… she can't even bring herself to hate _him._

It's stupid. She _should_ hate him, for breaking her heart like he did. But she still sees him on the news, or at work, diligently doing his job or rescuing people or visiting orphans, and she's stricken by the fact that there's simply nothing to hate about him. He's still wonderful. Still kind. Still beautiful.

The only thing she can hate is his failure to love her back. And Lois can't determine whether that's his fault… or hers.

Regardless, the checks themselves aren't unwarranted, or excessive enough to be considered an apology. They're his portion of the rent from their (her) apartment, out of which Lois has never moved, despite its ambitious price for a single woman living in Metropolis. Clark _technically _shares the place, which means that he is obligated to pay his share like this - at least until he formally changes residence.

Which he won't do, she knows. He thinks that if he stops paying, Lois will have to move. And he, being the considerate _asshole _that he is, would never hassle her like that.

Since the… _talk _they shared...he has been trying his best to avoid interacting with her altogether. He can probably see how _angry_ it makes her, just being near him, because she's still so desperately in love with him and _confused_ about how it fell apart so easily. So he leaves her alone - very, very alone - which means that they have never sorted out the issues presented by the apartment they bought _together._ Instead of settling things like normal adults… he sends these goddamn checks every month to make sure she can keep living in the place.

He doesn't even live with her, of course - she doesn't know where he lives nowadays. It's been several months since the breakup, but her address is still listed as his address - and more interestingly, somehow his mail is never in the box. Only hers. And these _effing_ checks. (He must sneak in every few days to collect his postage and then take off).

A part of Lois considers tearing the check up, just to prove to herself that she doesn't want or need his help. But another part knows that such a behavior would be juvenile and indicative of the fact that Clark has really unhinged her. Which he hasn't.

He _hasn't_.

Or maybe she doesn't want to admit the fact that somewhere, in her heart of hearts, she believes that everything can be repaired. That one day he'll come to his senses, and ask to rekindle their relationship, and _of course_ Lois will say yes - but she'll make him feel guilty as hell for being so dumb, and he better deliver the most eloquent apology in the world...

But it's been months. And lately… her life has finally settled into a routine. And if there's a routine, then it's very likely that things are changing for good. That they're separated for good.

So is she hopeless? Well, if she's being honest with herself, she knows that her love life situation is probably hopeless… but the irrationally optimistic part of her brain _isn't _hopeless. Not yet, anyway.

After stashing the check in her apartment, she heads to the Planet, wearing her favorite outfit to make herself feel a little better. After all, nothing improves someone's day like a reminder of how much their beloved ex _doesn't_ want to be around them. So wearing a badass red pencil skirt with a black asymmetrical top - makes her feel not so undesirable. Because she looks _good_ in it. (At least that hasn't changed. She had enough willpower to avoid eating her feelings through a variety of chocolate ice cream flavors).

Cab rides, on the other hand, have even become remarkably different, for a variety of reasons. She shared taxis with Clark for almost two years, starting the practice even before their relationship began. She became so accustomed to having him in the seat beside her, either talking or listening to her intently, that the vehicle's newfound quietude is _beyond_ unsettling. So now, as she travels to her workplace in the taxi, she can feel trademark loneliness prickling her skin, like icicles.

And that's her biggest problem right now. Not the taxi, of course, but how _different _everything is, without him.

For most of her life, relationships have been side-stories - distractions. Something to do when she wasn't chasing a story. And sure, some of them were more memorable than others - in good and bad ways. But ultimately, ending those relationships never _hurt_ her - never even _affected_ her beyond freeing up her hours.

But losing Clark did. With all those other guys, she always knew that she never loved them - that the relationship was temporary. But being with Clark felt right. Felt permanent. Like moving to a new house (or an apartment, in her case), only to find that she was to be evicted from the place she called _home_.

God, why has she become so introspective lately? _Snap out of it, Lane!_ she tells herself. Her boyfriend broke up with her. Boo hoo. How can she claim to be tough when she can't handle what most heterosexual women suffer on a daily basis? Honestly, she should smack herself in the face with her Pulitzer.

There'll be no pity party today - no siree. Lois Lane is gonna go to work, track down a story, and sell papers. Or online hits. Whatever.

Lois exits the taxi, throwing some cash at the driver. At least she doesn't have to argue with Clark about who pays anymore.

Christ, would she _stop_ thinking about Clark?

She continues to curse herself as she enters the elevator of the DP building and ascends to top floor. And of course, as she arrives at said top floor, Steve Lombard is lounging around his desk, patiently waiting for her.

"Hey Lane!" he calls. "Busy later?"

Lois's eyes immediately roll. Ever since she broke up with Clark, Lombard has been quite keen on 'comforting' her. And by comforting her, she means he's keen on getting in her pants.

The breakup was certainly something of great interest to the DP staff. For years, they watched Lois Lane date a wide variety of famous men (or more commonly, rebuff them in dramatic ways), until they were stunned by her decision to become _involved_ with a seemingly less-than-average guy like Clark Kent. A guy who, to their ultimate astonishment, she dated for over a year and soon shared an apartment with. A guy who, in the coup de grace, became the first guy to ever rebuff her, instead of vice versa, thus breaking Lois's apparently not-so-stonelike heart.

Then, he came strolling back into the Daily Planet a day later, like nothing happened. For days, most people were under the impression that they were still dating. And in all honestly, Lois is grateful that he _didn't_ go around boasting that he broke up with her, like it was somehow a reflection on how desirable and powerful he is.

But then again, his behavior isn't that surprising - she wouldn't expect anything less from him. Just because he doesn't love her romantically doesn't mean that he wants to cause her anguish. More than anything, he probably feels bad that he led her on in the first place.

Thus, initially, the whole affair was quiet. She privately told Perry about it, which caused him to moan and groan about 'bad blood' between his star reporters, but he very carefully assigned them to different stories in an attempt to keep the peace. And sure, some people noticed the lack of PDA between herself and Clark, but they figured that after a year, some of the sparks had faded between them.

But then, of course, Jimmy Olsen came over to her apartment to discuss a pending story. And that was when he noticed that Clark's things were no longer located there. And somehow, from there, the rumor spread that Lois Lane and Clark Kent were on the outs.

The speculation was constant. _What was the last straw_? they wondered. _What did Clark do for her to finally end it?_

But a few days later, for some absolutely stupid reason, Ron Troupe walked in on her crying in her office. And it's not like Lois cries very often. But it was only two weeks after the break-up, and she had just interviewed Superman for a story. Talking to him for even that short amount of time _hurt like hell_, but she, as a reporter, had to swallow her pride to do it anyway. It was only after she returned to her ultimately not-so-private office space that she shed a few frustrated tears.

But Lois Lane had never cried on DP property before, as far as they knew. And if she was crying, then that could only mean one thing - she was the victim of the break-up, not the perpetrator. Farm boy Clark Kent broke up with the internationally recognized reporter, Lois Lane. People were simply in awe that someone so (seemingly) average had broken up with someone so above average.

Lois was among them. Not because she thought she was out of his league (which she wasn't and still isn't), but because she was so heavily under the impression that her relationship with Clark would last.

Lombard, unfortunately, sees her heartbreak as an opportunity, which is why he continuously hits on her. Even now, he stands and approaches her, wearing the bland pastel polo shirt and khakis combination that he always has He's grinning a crooked smile too - the kind that gullible women might find sexy, if they don't realize how much of a _douche_ Lombard is.

"I've got two tickets to the Monster Jam in New Troy. Wanna come?" he asks.

Tempting. Not because of Lombard, of course, but because she has always loved Monster Truck jamborees, ever since she was a kid. It's actually one of the only things her father would do with her when he wasn't traveling. Normally, she resents the things that her father likes, but whenever he watched two Monster Trucks destroying one another, he always seemed uncharacteristically agreeable.

She even dragged Clark to a jamboree once - he wasn't a fan of the motorsport, but for her, he suffered through it anyway. (Clark also did not expect a hook-up afterward. The same will not be true for Lombard.)

_Stop thinking about Clark!_ she urges herself. God, is _she_ a mess.

Anyway, Lombard must have asked Jimmy what she likes to do, and Jimmy - being goodhearted and figuring that she could use romantic company - probably told him.

But frankly, Lois isn't the mood for any more romantic company, let alone company with the likes of womanizers like Steve Lombard. He has cycled through all of the building's female interns, and probably only likes Lois because she's 'hard to get' or some bullshit. In fact, she'd rather buy the tickets off of Lombard and bring a _friend_ like Jimmy with her instead.

"For you, Lombard? For you, I'm always busy," Lois retorts as she walks straight past him, heading into her office and slamming the door.

She doesn't think he'll be willing to sell her the tickets after that.

After that, she jumps headlong into investigating. Today, that involves a lot of internet research on a Metropolis University professor who has been undertaking human experiments that, according to one witness, break pretty much every ethical guideline.

Background is important for investigative reporting, especially if she is planning on faking interest in the professor's book (_The Future of_ _Bioengineering) _to get an interview with him.

She is about to call the professor's assistant on the matter when her office door swings open, revealing Cat Grant, who Lois can admit has a pretty great (albeit loud) fashion sense. Currently, Cat is clothed in a slimming black and salmon dress with pointy black stilettos. Round sunglasses are placed on top of her head, and their presence makes _limited_ sense to Lois. It's August, which means that the sun beats down mercilessly on the city, so that could partially explain why Cat is sporting them. She just doesn't know why Cat is wearing them _indoors_.

"I'm working, Cat," Lois complains from her desk, tired of people barging into her workspace.

"That's all you do these days, Lois. Work," Cat says patronizingly. "Keep this up, and you'll become _boring_."

"Ha. Me, boring? Not damn likely. Not in my line of work."

"I saw that you turned down Lombard."

Lois raises an eyebrow. "What? Do you disapprove?"

Not that Lois cares whether Cat disapproves.

Cat chuckles. "Not at all - I know from _personal_ experience how awful Lombard is. In fact, I was worried that you'd say yes, given how sad you've seemed lately."

"I'm not sad!" Lois lies indignantly. "What the hell gave you that impression?"

"You know how, lately, you always listen to music when you're leaving work?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Happy people don't listen to 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' by Bonnie Tyler. Which, according to the glimpse I got of your phone, was what you were blasting through your headphones."

Lois grumbles bitterly, cursing herself for listening to that stupid song. She read on a website that songs about break-ups could actually make you feel better. So for a while, Lois was under the impression that the advice was true, and followed it.

Well, fun fact: those songs don't make you feel better. Another fun fact: they only reveal how pathetic you are. Third fun fact: she actually hates Bonnie Tyler's music, so really, listening to her was a lapse in judgment.

"I'm really _not_ that sad," Lois claims, folding her arms. "I'm just...transitioning to a new phase in my life."

"If you say so," Cat replies, unconvinced. "New topic: I heard that it's your birthday next week."

"I reluctantly ask again: So?"

"_So_? It's your birthday! Aren't you doing anything to celebrate?"

"Why would I want to celebrate? I'm one year closer to an AARP card. Plus, if I get old enough, eventually I'll be forced to retire, and then I'll be _really _bored."

Cat rolls your eyes. "God, you've already gotten boring. It's my responsibility to save a fellow femme fatale from certain blandness. And lucky for you, Miss Lois Lane, I have major connections in this city. Such as an 'in' at the Shockhouse, Metropolis's most popular nightclub. To which you and I will be going, on your birthday, to have _fun_."

"Pass," Lois declines. "I've got important work to do."

"More important than Metropolis's most eligible bachelors buying you drinks under flashing lights and banging music?"

Lois tries very, very hard not to laugh, deciding to seem incredulous instead of derisive. "Yes, actually. My work is _far_ more important than being bought drinks by guys who want to get in my pants."

"I used to think you and I had a lot in common, Lois. You used to like having fun without the commitment - used to like throwing those gender expectations down the toilet. But now…" Cat trails off, shaking her head.

Lois scrunches up her nose, considering Cat's words. It's true. Back in the day, she never used to look for commitment, or even for love. She used to just have fun and left it at that. And now that her best chance for commitment is gone, shouldn't she get back to how things used to be?

"Fine," Lois agrees begrudgingly. "I'll go. But only because you're _such_ a flatterer."

Obviously, the last part was sarcastic. But Lois values Cat for her bluntness, so she really wouldn't have preferred if Cat asked differently.

Thus, Cat winks at her as she leaves, closing the door behind her. "You won't regret it, Lois."

In all honestly, Lois doesn't know why Cat is so adamant about accompanying Lois to a club. Maybe she simply pities Lois, for suffering such a terrible break-up (which is awful, because Lois doesn't want pity). Or maybe Cat just wants some company. Either way, Cat has never really reached out to Lois in friendship before, so this newfound kinship is surprising.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

**A/N: I'm posting this early because I will be giving a speech in front of over a thousand people tomorrow. I'm terrified. So if there are typos, please excuse them.**

**And yes, Bruce gets a point of view! He needs one. And he... is by far the hardest character to write. His personality and mentality are unique. Finding a balance between intellectualism, anger, and stoicism is very difficult in his case. **Hopefully,** I did a good job, but that's up to you to decide. **

**I finished writing this book last Saturday. I'm still posting chapter by chapter so I can start the third book. **

**And yes, I know the last chapter was depressing (it's not even the most depressing thing that has, in actuality, been planned for this series from the very start) but everything happens for a reason. Plus, the beginning of the third book makes up for 100%. **

**Thanks for reading! I know the break-up is sad... just bear with me.**

**UPDATE: I am reposting this chapter because I noticed that the horizontal separator between the POV change disappeared. I don't know if you'll get a notification, but if you do, this is why. **


	52. Chapter Eighteen - Wall

_CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - WALL_

Lois has become absolutely infuriated by Emmet Vale, the not-so-ethical MetU professor. He won't take Lois's calls, won't agree to interviews. And pretty much every one of his students has been warned about her, so they refused to talk to her as well.

Perry asks for an update on the story, and unfortunately, she has to tell him the truth - that she hasn't made progress days.

She is still dealing with dead ends when Perry calls her into his office, forcing her to abandon her fruitless work. He probably wants an explanation for her inefficacy - cases that she can't crack are rare, if not usually nonexistent. And if she's making so little progress, he's probably worried about her health - she's normally that good.

To make a bad day even worse, Lois walks into the editor's office to find the last person she wants to see sitting in one of the chairs across from Perry.

Clark.

Alright, if she's honest with herself, he's not really the last person she wants to see. In fact, he's actually the person that she always most wants to see, but can't, because of everything that has happened between them.

Underneath the Clark Kent disguise - which consists of baggy suits, fedoras, and ugly glasses - she knows that he probably looks good. That there are gorgeous, luminous blue eyes under those glasses, and strong muscles under the suit, and a flawless face under the shadow of his hat.

And worst of all, thinking about those traits remind her of how much she is attracted to him - which she shouldn't be anymore.

In fact, seeing him here reminds her of the first day she met him, shortly after their first, not-so-pleasant encounter in the elevator. Back then, when she was still reeling from the events in Qurac, she had aggressively barged into Perry's office, where Clark had been seated. She was stunned to find out that he, the neighbor she had insulted on the elevator, was actually her new co-worker. Lois can only imagine how her old self would react to the news that Clark is an alien - an alien with whom she would fall in love.

And just like on that day, Perry startles at her entrance. He composes himself soon enough, and orders: "Sit down, Lane."

Perry looks the same as he always has - stout, built like an ox, with balding gray hair atop his head. And his voice is just as constant: blaring, commanding, with just a hint of a rasp from the cigars that he smokes regularly, despite the protestations of his wife.

"Why?" Lois questions, glancing between Clark and Perry, and dreading the idea of being trapped in a room with the former.

Perry gives her a look. "I'm your boss. I don't have to give you a reason to sit the hell down."

"Yes, you do. I'm not just any employee, Perry, and I'm not doing anything without a proper explanation as to why I should be doing it. Because I swear to God, if this is some attempt at whacked out relationship counseling-"

"Contrary to your beliefs, Lane," Perry interrupts, "but your personal life, or Kent's, for that matter, is not the center of my universe. And I would rather put myself through a shredder than play relationship counselor. So sit down."

Grudgingly, Lois does as he asks, and plops herself into the seat beside Clark. From the corner of her eye, she can see him blushing with embarrassment and discomfort. Lois suspects that she is doing the same.

"The reason I've called you in here is because I'm done appeasing your childish desires to avoid one another. We all know that you two do some of your best work together."

"What are you talking about?" Lois asks in confusion.

"Let's state the obvious: lately, Kent's stories have gotten 'blah', and Lane's stories, though interesting, have been going nowhere. So it's time to re-strategize for the benefit of the paper. Our problem is that the professor is smart. Too smart. He knows who you are, Lane, and what you do well. And because he knows that he's doing something wrong, he won't see you for fear of being exposed. It's an endless cycle. So we need to break said cycle - with Kent helping you."

"How exactly is Clark supposed to help?" Lois demands icily. "Besides, this is my story. It's my anonymous source that revealed it to me."

"Calm down. It's still your story. But you're gonna have to share a byline. Kent's a MetU alumnus - he had the dear professor for some of his courses. They got to be pals, apparently. Isn't that right, Kent?"

Clark nods. "I even helped him with some research projects. Professor Vale was really disappointed when I chose journalism as my major, not bioengineering. The subject matter was really fascinating, actually. But um...I don't think I could ever work in a lab."

"Well, Clark, your dear old professor is suspected of conducting illegal experiments," Lois points out, not at all nicely, "all in the name of that 'fascinating' subject."

"It's been years since I've talked to him. Maybe something has happened to him to cause him to… I don't know... make bad decisions. He was a good man, back when I knew him."

"Or maybe you don't know what you're talking about," Lois says bitingly, surprising herself with her own aggression. "And I don't know what Perry's talking about either, because frankly, I couldn't be happier working alone."

What… what is she saying? Why is she releasing all unwarranted frustration toward Clark - releasing it in front of her boss, no less? She knows she shouldn't be so cruel, so immature, because really - it's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about her.

But the fact is… she's been humiliated. Had her feelings thrown back in her face, for no discernible reason. And his stoic behavior makes it worse, not better, because to her he's like a wall. She never received an explicit reason for why he ended it, never learned what went wrong. And right now, she wants them to have a reason. She wants to look back and say that she's glad that it's over, instead of wishing that she could go back. If they hate each other, even after-the-fact, it'll be easier. So she fights to get a rise out of him - fights to get that justification.

But Clark has always been too nice. He remains polite and diplomatic, as always, ignoring her jabs.

"On second thought, Perry… maybe I shouldn't work with Lois on this one. It's clear that our personalities are no longer compatible-"

Ouch, Lois thinks. She knows that they've always been opposites, but suddenly he sees that as a problem? Does he dislike her that much?

"Great Caesar's Ghost, would you two stop-" Perry begins, but is interrupted as a secretary comes into the room.

"Mr. White?" she says. "Your son's on the phone. He says it's urgent."

Perry drags his hand across his face, seeming remarkably exasperated. Then, he stands and points an accusing finger at them both. "While I'm gone, you two better sort things out, or I'm gonna make you sort them out."

With that, he leaves. And like Lois feared, she is now completely alone in a room with her ex-boyfriend. Her ex-boyfriend… and the feelings she frankly just doesn't want to face.

Another awkward break in conversation ensues. She wonders if either of them will say anything at all, and just pretend that they sorted everything out.

Lois would be fine with that. Okay, not really. She would prefer to never share a room with him again. Okay, again, that's a lie too. She would love to share a room with him. Share a bed, even. But he doesn't want to do that with her anymore, which is why, right now, sharing a room with him makes her feel incredibly dejected.

Finally, she hears him mumble something - something she misses.

"What'd you say?"

He clears his throat, then inquires: "Did you get the check?"

"Yeah, I got it," Lois snaps. "Why are you still doing that anyway? I mean… it's not like you live with me anymore...thank God."

She doesn't know why she said those last two words, because honestly, she doesn't mean them. But she's so hurt, so demeaned, that she can't keep them from slipping out. A cruel part of her wants him to be just as offended as she was, when he left her, despite his promises of forever.

He doesn't say anything in response, so Lois continues speaking. It feels important to keep him talking, because the sound of his voice is still so wonderful for her, and maybe if he talks enough, she can get her desire for it out of her system. After all, this is the first time since the breakup that they have conversed as real people, not as Superman and his interviewer, Lois Lane.

"Where are you even living now?"

A pause. Then, he sighs with exasperation, but she finds herself unable to identify the exact reason behind the exasperation. Is he frustrated with her? With his living space? With everything?

"I've moved into the fortress," he tells her simply after a few moments, with an exaggerated type of indifference. Like someone trying to hide how dissatisfied they truly are.

Lois snorts. "Wow."

"What?"

"The fortress? Are you kidding? That's no place to live."

"It's fine!" he claims indignantly. Then, more quietly, "I'm fine."

"So...what? You've just been camping out there, alone? Isolated… in the Arctic, with only a computer for company?"

"Well...yeah."

"Christ, now it's really some sort of 'Fortress of Solitude' for you, huh? Just because you're an alien doesn't mean you have to literally alienate yourself."

Shaking his head and closing his eyes, he says: "You don't understand."

"You're right. I don't. In fact, I haven't been able to understand you for months."

This small-talk has become too personal. Too focused on the source of their problem - the breakup. Clark stiffens as a result, and so does Lois; it's like the air has gotten colder, and they are bracing themselves against a battering wind.

"I never did it to hurt you, you know," Clark whispers almost guiltily, after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, you failed in that endeavor, Smallville," she replies with a huff. Then, after a pause of her own, she continues: "but that's more on me, not on you. Truth is...I've never been broken up with before, and I had some trouble handling it."

Clark's expression becomes pained, rife with guilt and regret. But Lois knows it's not because he actually regrets leaving. This is Superman she's talking to - the person who would help rescue a mass murderer, if one was in peril, simply because he feels other people's pain so viscerally. Right now, Lois figures that the situation is similar. Of course, she is no mass murderer, but clearly, he no longer wants her. He just doesn't want her to hurt.

Regardless of what he wants, however, that ache in her heart persists. Corny as it sounds. And even worse, she is humiliated by the fact that he pities her so much.

"But don't worry," she adds hastily. "I'm over it, by now. You know me. Relationships are like stories - I move from one to the next."

A pause. During it, something strange crosses Clark's features, but it fades so quickly that Lois cannot identify it. Was it skepticism? Maybe he knows that she's still immensely upset, and doesn't believe her claims. Nonetheless, he must be too polite to point it out.

"I'm...glad," he decides finally.

"I am too." God, is she a liar. "And I'm also sorry for whatever I did to make you… y'know-"

To her bewilderment, he chuckles, like the notion is funny. And God, she has missed his laugh. She hasn't even acknowledged how much she has missed it until this moment, upon hearing it again. It's so full, so hearty, with an almost childlike quality with its unabashed amusement.

But there is an undertone of bitterness rippling through it as well. She probably wouldn't have noticed it, if she did not know him so well.

"What's so funny?"

"You didn't do anything, Lois. You're perfect. Always have been."

"Then why-"

"Listen," he interrupts hastily - desperately, even, so that he will not be forced to answer that particular question. "Let's just put our pasts aside, for the sake of this one story. It'll be better that way."

Irritation bubbles under Lois's skin. What right does he have, to deny her an explanation that she needs?

But Perry will be back in a few moments, demanding to know whether they have sorted out their problems. For their jobs' sake, it'll be best if they lie and agree.

So she nods like her head is a 50-pound weight that she has to lift, and let drop again. And sure enough, Perry is soon re-entering the room, grumbling about something that his son said on the phone.

"So," Perry begins as he falls back into his chair with a groan, "Are you two ready to act like adults?"

"We're fine," they both reply in a unison so startling that they glance at each other in incredulity. Then, their eyes return to Perry to make direct eye contact, like any good liars would.

Unfortunately, Perry looks blatantly skeptical. Lois fears that he knows them too well, and that he can clearly distinguish instances when they are far from fine, such as right now.

* * *

"Clark Joseph Kent - you are acting like an absolute fool," Clark's mother chastises him for the hundredth time.

"You've said that already."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

"Ma," Clark protests with exasperation, "I'm trying to do what's best for everyone."

His mother scoffs so loudly that Clark finds himself startled but her blatant disapproval of his actions. It's not often that she fails to be supportive, and Clark has enough doubts as it is, without his own mother putting them in his head.

"Best for everyone? You're miserable. And from what you tell me, she's miserable too. Who exactly is benefiting from this arrangement of yours?"

Currently, Clark is sitting at the kitchen table of his family's farm, where he is feeling like a particularly sad cliche as he picks at a piece of his mother's apple pie. He's not really sure why he came back here - but generally, when he's feeling particularly alone, he likes to visit his parents. Here, in this place that feels so consumingly like home, that has the yellow sunlight seeping through the windows, and frilly white curtains, and photos lining every surface, Clark finds it difficult to feel as 'miserable' as his mother insists he is.

Of course, none of this will change the fact that he currently calls an empty, freezing cold ice castle 'home.' And it most certainly won't change the fact that has ruined his chances with the woman he loves on purpose, simply because he had no other choice.

"This arrangement is to keep her safe," Clark asserts. "And it's working. She hasn't been targeted once since we broke up - she's been totally safe. And yeah, maybe we're both still reeling, but everyone goes through break-ups. We'll...we'll get over it."

The last part sounds sort of desperate. Like he is trying to convince himself that his emotional state is temporary.

But the first part is true. Given the way that Lois Lane interviews Superman nowadays, with cold, perfunctory questions, people rarely spread rumors about them anymore. Every supervillain attack has been stopped, easily and quickly, without the complication of having Lois involved.

Clark adds, "Not to mention that I have a lot more time now. Time that I use to make rescues as Superman. A few months ago, when I was so focused on my personal life, I wasn't nearly as effective."

At that, his mother becomes concerned.

"Effective? Clark, you sound like a robot. Superman isn't meant to solve all the world's problems. He's supposed to lend a helping hand when necessary. And you...you still deserve to be a person."

"I'm still a person, ma. I'm just...I can't afford to hurt the people around me. You guys… you guys live so out of the way that no one can connect you to Superman. But Lois - you know her. She's always right in the thick of things, trying to get a story. And most of the time, I have to either leave her behind, or drag her into the fray. It's not fair to do either of those things to her."

"Shouldn't she decide what's fair for her, Clark?" his mother challenges.

"I'm the one who will have to deal with the consequences, though, ma. Shouldn't I get a say, when I'm the one who might have to bury her, in the aftermath? And if I get hurt on the job, and we're involved, then she'll be torn apart too. My life is so dangerous… I just… I can't bring anyone else into it. I just can't."

His mother looks completely unconvinced. "If you keep this going...it's gonna be one of those of things."

"One of what things?"

"One of the things you'll regret the rest of your life, Clark."

She slips her hand under his empty pie plate, and smoothly brings it to the kitchen sink. As Clark watches, he can see the frustrated way in which she scrubs the surface. Her features are tired, exhausted. She has always seemed young and vibrant to Clark, but in this moment, she seems older than she ever has. With all his heart, he wishes that his mother wasn't so concerned for his happiness. That's his responsibility - not hers. Yet she feels his pain anyway.

He wonders how many other people he will hurt before he is totally alone. And then he is startled by the fact that he already has so few people left.

Jimmy hasn't spoken to him very much since he heard about the breakup. Clark isn't exactly surprised. Jimmy befriended Lois long before he befriended Clark, and he supposes that Jimmy feels that Lois is in the right, in this situation. Clark is the heartbreaker - again. Just like with Lana.

Except with Lana, he actually fell out of love with her. But every time Clark watches Lois cross the room, or partakes in one of her interviews as Superman, he wants to fall apart. He wants to lean in, kiss her, and simultaneously punch himself in the face for being stupid enough to try to let her go.

But then he hears her heartbeat, and he is reminded of the abundances of instances during their relationship when that heartbeat almost ceased entirely. And he refrains.

And God knows he can't talk to Lana about his current emotional state. If he tells her, he figures there's a 95 percent chance that she will punch him in the face (and, of course, hurt herself in the process). Lana has always been the biggest disbeliever in his stone-set destiny, citing his need for personal happiness as his most important pursuit in life. If she finds out that he is still in love with Lois, and broke up with her anyway, Lana will be absolutely irate.

Even the rest of the Daily Planet staff has abandoned him, not that they have ever truly supported him. When rumors of the break-up spread, Cat Grant stormed into his office and promptly called him a "self-centered asshole," who "should have been eternally thankful for what he had."

"Forget out of your league, Clark!" she screamed. "Lois Lane was out of your universe! And now, as you approach a very lonely, old age, you're gonna watch as she moves onto the next rich, gorgeous guy. I hope you're happy with your decision!"

Clark could only stare at her in disbelief. Cat has hardly acknowledged his existence, let alone shown antagonism toward him.

"Why...why are you saying these things?" Clark wondered, fighting the shame creeping into his gut.

"Because I was under the impression that you were a good guy. But apparently, you're just another jerk who gets a kick out of breaking hearts, just because you can."

After that, Cat stormed out.

And Clark… Clark tried not the let her words get to him. But they did anyway - to the point where he literally had to fly back out into space so that he could release another soundless scream that accurately reflected his current state of mind. Because really, Clark deserves this treatment. Not because he wanted it hurt Lois, but because he is responsible for the circumstances that required him to do so.

Of course, Lois seems absolutely fine nowadays. Maybe a little bitter, but if his earlier meeting with her in Perry's office is an indication, she has mostly gotten over him. Clark, meanwhile, couldn't look at her face without feeling his heart wrench - like someone was tugging it out of his chest with a pair of pliers.

"Pa agreed with me," Clark reminds his mother quietly, recalling the first time he explained the situation to his parents.

"When we first found you, Jonathan Kent suggested that we call the government about the ship," Marth chuckles. "Thank God I didn't even listen. That man is many things, but 'always right' is not one of them. No one is. Not even you, sweetie."

God, he hates when his mother doubts him. Because despite what she claims, it seems like she is almost always right. Always has been. His parents' moral compass… the decision-making process that they taught him… those things define them. And when his mother questions him, he starts to wonder if he truly is wrong. If Lex was wrong. Because really, he wants Lex to be incorrect - wants things to go back to the way they were.

At the thought, hope bubbles in his chest. Of course, he's been wrong! He could go back to Lois, apologize - they could start anew.

Couldn't they?

His logic returns, erasing the passion-driven madness that just appeared. There's no way that they could start anew. Even if he changes his mind, that decision won't change Lois's dislike toward him. Her antagonism today proved that quite completely. She couldn't even stand to sit in the same room with him without falling to incivility.

By now, his chances must be finished with her - she's never been the forgiving type. And he has wronged her too seriously. Plus, a person only gets one opportunity to love a woman like Lois Lane, and he threw it away. It's just too late for him to run back to her, as much as he may want to do so.

So what is he going to do? See her every day, at work, and suffer through it? How is he going to survive that? It's been torture, these past few months. Heart-stabbing torture. Maybe if he gets away, he'll stop playing with what-ifs. Maybe he'll come to terms with who he is - humanity's protector. The Last Kryptonian.

Alone.

That's what his biological parents made him when they sent him to Earth. Someone who will always be, in one way or another, alone.

She made him feel otherwise, of course, but he has no right to endanger her to feel better about himself. He can't trust himself to stay resolute on this, though. He'll have to take some sort of action to ensure that he really, truly, does not try to reinstate the past. It'll hurt like hell, but it'll be for the best.

For the best, for sure.

"Clark… just… trust your instincts, okay? Sometimes the head makes doubts that aren't worth it," his mother says, her voice exasperated. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma. I understand."

But even a small chance of losing Lois is not worth taking.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I totally forgot what day of the week it was. That's why this is so late. (It's summer and my schedule is weird. I thought it was Monday). **

**It's lucky I went on to check how many views this story **had,** because I **would never** have remembered that it was Saturday. **

**Anyway... *cue sad breakup music* for this chapter. **

**Can you believe that I, the ultimate Superman nerd, have never read Superman: Secret Identity? I've read so many of the Superman comics 1987 onwards... but not that one. Well, the good news is... I'm about to. I'm enjoying rebirth so far as well... the Clark/Lois and Jon dynamic is so cute! (Though rebirth superman is hella confusing). **

**And I'm rewatching Smallville. I need to expand my horizons beyond the Superman-related, tbh. It's not healthy. **

**Okay, I gotta go. Hope you liked! And for those of you who don't know, my **url** on **tumblr** changed again (I'm fickle like that). It's now **supermah** (with an h at the end instead of an n). Please review! **


	53. Chapter Nineteen - Old Flames

_CHAPTER NINETEEN - OLD FLAMES_

Lois sits in yet another taxi, watching the neon glow of storefronts and streetlamps blur through the darkened windows of the car. Her fingers absentmindedly brush over the sleek black material of her dress, with clings close to her skin and catches the light in an odd sheen.

Lois thinks she has entirely forgotten how to go clubbing. It's been...God, just how many years has it been since she did it last? She can't even remember. But now, she is heading to _the_ _Shockhouse_ to meet Cat, where they are supposedly going to celebrate Lois's birthday. Which, she supposes, is better than the alternative way to spend her birthday, which would involve sitting in her apartment, catching up on deadlines, and maybe (if she finds the emotional resolution) finally tossing out the pictures Clark that are still strewn all over the place.

Internally, she tries to place the last time she went to a nightclub, racking her memories for the point when her world changed so drastically. Because when she was in high school, she frequented the Metropolis bars and clubs all time, simply to spite her strict father. That behavior persisted throughout high school and college, up until she got her first job at the Daily Planet.

Maybe that was the first catalyst. At that point, with her love for journalism fully ignited, she became more work-oriented - more focused and driven. But even then… she would spend a few nights a week dancing or going out for drinks. Old habits die hard, after all. So what killed this particular habit to the point where it was nearly erased from her memory?

Then it hits her. It was only when she started dating Lex that she stopped doing these sort of things. He vehemently hated dancing, she remembers - he always liked to stay in, have deep intellectual conversations or gourmet dinners. Lex was never lighthearted in the least. He liked to joke, but joke _seriously_. His humor was dark - deprecating. Not self-deprecating, of course. But deprecating of everyone else, because he found himself so superior.

Lex was never intimate either. He could be _physical_ and _passionate_, but always in a careful, calculating way. He had no gentle touch, no real tenderness.

Lois supposes that she was the same way, back then. She was all vibrancy. All wit and shrewdness. Everything about them both must have been so aggressive, so uncompromising, that they had seemed to be made for each other. As two people who were fiercely competitive and ambitious, they both came to see the other as an exciting challenge to conquer.

And sure, maybe Lois could boast more compassion than Lex could… but back then, she was still insensitive - still too blunt, still too cold. Still too similar to Lex.

Lois remembers the night she met him, several years ago. That was in the early days, when he evaded the press so fully that interviews with Lex Luthor were as rare as eclipses. And if Lois was able to chronicle one of such eclipses… well… that would be _big_ news. So she pestered and pestered his offices, ardently refusing to be refused. Eventually, she crashed one of his luncheons, pretending to be attending as her father's plus one. (The added bonus was that her father was furious when he discovered her lie).

Regardless, when she finally confronted Lex, she tirelessly barraged him with questions. He was forced to suffer accusation after accusation - and Lois held no metaphorical punches. She loved to unabashedly flaunt her intelligence and skill as a reporter - loved cracking the cases, and leaving her subjects at a loss for words. Maybe Lex could see her passion, and her intellectual ferocity. Maybe that's when Lex started to fall in love with her, by some odd twist of fate. And, most certainly, that's when their relationship began.

Began, until it was brought to an abrupt end by a bullet engraved with his last name.

Lois remembers how happy her father was, because of her "catch." In fact, Lois's relationship with Lex was probably the only thing she ever did of which General Lane approved. Once, she commented on the matter to Lex, back when they were sharing a meal together.

"Why wouldn't he be happy for us? We're two intelligent, ambitious, attractive people. You know... we're probably as compatible as two people possibly could be," Lex replied, his eyes glinting at her in the low candlelight.

"Don't forget modest," Lois added in a sarcastic tone.

"Please. Modesty's for those who actually care about what others think of them. And we both know that we're far from caring about those things."

Dating Clark, so many months later, was a totally different experience. An oddity even - so odd that Lois now feels as if she were addicted to it. The tenderness she shared with him, that inexplicable warmth within his arms, was so foreign to her...and yet, it somehow began to belong to her, and her to it. His easy smile, so lacking in arrogance, seemed to bring out an innocence in her, and maybe even a gentleness. Clark was no challenge, no competitor (even if their journalistic relationship started that way). There isn't really even a word to describe what they became… and maybe that's the point. Maybe words weren't meant to accurately display their feelings.

Or...Lois supposes… what their feelings once were.

Is she really going to do this? Start the cycle again? The one-night stands, the reception of free drinks at bars, the dancing with random guys whom she cannot name and never will. And the worst part is, even as she sits in this taxi, all made up in a party dress, she knows that this is _not_ what she wants.

_Damn you_, Lois curses herself. Or maybe she's cursing Clark, wherever he is right now. She told Cat that she is going, and that she will have fun, so that's what she plans on doing. Regardless of some weird longing for a past that is long since gone.

Besides, it'll be nice to spend her birthday with a friend.

The taxi arrives at the door, and Lois steps out. Even from outside the building, she can see the flash of strobe lights, smell redolent alcohol, and hear the booming of deafening music.

The line for _the Shockhouse_ is down the street, and Lois briefly wonders what she is going to do. _God this is stupid._ She knows that _the Shockhouse_ is the most popular nightclub in the entire city. You practically have to be royalty to get in, and Cat probably gave up on the prospect of entering as soon as she arrived.

But then someone is tapping her on the shoulder, and Lois whirls around.

"About time you got here. I didn't bring a jacket, y'know, and it's pretty damn freezing waiting outside like this," Cat Grant says with exasperation. Lois is unsurprised to see Cat is sheathed in a red leather bustier that displays a considerable portion of her midriff, paired with a black skirt that might be even tighter than Lois's dress. Lois is even less surprised to see that Cat pulls off the look so well.

"You might wanna plan on waiting a few hours longer," Lois replies, gesturing to the line. "We are _never_ gonna get into this place, you know."

Cat grins. "Calm your worries, birthday girl. I've got us covered."

She proceeds toward the door, and with a confused eye roll, Lois follows her. "Y'know, I never asked. Why exactly are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Trying to spend time with me."

Cat's expression suggests that the answer is obvious, even in the dim light of the flashing strobes. "Because I've always admired you, Lois. People tend to think that I'm silly… and shallow...but you? You've got influence. You've got respect and credibility. And _you_ shouldn't feel down because one _idiot_ was stupid enough to kick you to the curb."

Lois is taken aback. She never knew that Cat had such an attitude toward her. "Oh. I mean… thanks."

"Don't mention it," Cat replies, flashing her press pass at the bouncer at the door. He lets them through. Lois gapes at the ease at which they are both allowed to enter, and Cat explains, "I report on celebrity gossip. And people go to clubs where they might see celebrities. So letting me into this place is good for business, because I tell the people where drama is most likely to occur. Plus, I _clearly_ improve the scenery."

Lois snorts.

They stroll down a strobe-light illuminated hallway for a few seconds, receiving glimpses of people leaning against the walls, their skin reflecting the light. Then, with a turn to the right, the building opens up into a huge hall - one that seems almost otherworldly in nature.

Hanging on the ceiling is an enormous, glowing, abstract chandelier, its appearance almost reminiscent of clouds and lightning. Underneath it is the main dancefloor, which is lined with smooth, reflective tiles. Scantily-clad people dance, crowd, and gyrate under flashing blue lights, which imitate the nature of crackling electricity.

Lois supposes it is fitting, given the name of the club: Shockhouse.

Metropolis has long been famous for its nightlife, and while Lois has attended many nightclubs, she has never visited those as famous as this one. And now, seeing the splendor of this place, she suddenly understands how the city earned its title.

There are spaces reserved for sitting, where leather loveseats are placed, and to the side is the largest bar Lois has ever seen. Its shape is circular, and its circumference is bursting at the seams with people. The entire place, in fact, seems to be rising and falling to the beat of the techno music.

"Let's get some drinks!" Cat yells above the pounding of the song, her eyebrows raised in a suggestive way - like she knows something Lois doesn't. It is almost unnerving. "They have some specialties that you _have _to try! And some old-fashioned stuff too."

Lois wonders if she is talking about drinks, or about the prospect of partners for the night.

Then, just like that, Cat is dragging her toward the bar. Lois finds it difficult to keep up as they descend a set of stairs. Of course, Lois has been adept at walking in heels for years, but Cat could probably run a marathon in the damn things if her speed is any indication.

"'Scuse me. Pardon me!" Cat yells as she shoves people aside, attempting to create a path to the bar. Her pleadings are mostly unsuccessful, and they are forced slip between dancing and chatting bodies to reach a space at the countertop.

The two of them are there for barely a few seconds, breathing heavily from all the pushing and shoving, before a bartender deposits two drinks in front of them.

"They're on the gentlemen over there," he informs them, pointing to a group of particularly attractive young men, across from their side of the circular bar. Their stares are visibly hungry, even in the odd lighting.

"I think that's record time - it usually takes around a minute for me to score my first drink," Cat grins, and then proceeds to take a huge gulp. "I'm gonna head over there. I wouldn't mind waking up next to the dark haired one. If we get to sleep, that is."

Lois raises an eyebrow. "Cat, I think we're at least six years older than those guys."

"Yeah, but I don't _look_ it. You should stay here."

Lois pauses, then asks with incredulous offense, "But I do? Is that what you're implying?"

"No, of course not!" Cat retracts. "It's just that… well, I think you'd be better served by staying here. You may meet someone special."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"Anyway-" Cat continues with a wink, "Happy Birthday! Tell me how the night ends… I probably won't see you until tomorrow!"

"Cat, you can't drag me here, and just ditch m-"

Too late. Cat is already running off, waving toward the group of boys. Thus, Lois is left alone with her drink, her incredulity, and her tight-fitting dress. This is not exactly how she pictured tonight going.

For the next few minutes, Lois wastes time at the bar. After turning down several requests to dance, and receiving two dozen extra free drinks from interested parties, she contents herself with checking her phone. It is then that she receives an unexpected text message. The beep of her phone is inaudible, but the vibration can be felt through her hand. In her boredom, her finger flicks along the touchscreen, unlocking her phone to read the contents.

"_Happy Birthday, Lois_," Clark Kent writes, to her astonishment. "_You deserve all the good things in the world_. _Many happy returns._"

For a few seconds, she stares at the text, dumbstruck. Did Clark really send her that? She examines it closer. Yes, yes he _did_. But what does it mean? Is he being sarcastic? No, it doesn't seem like it. He seems to genuinely mean it. But they're done. They're over. So why would he still be sending her 'happy birthday' messages?

God...he's still so… so impossibly, annoyingly, intolerably _nice_. And this is yet another reminder of him that she does not need.

Because apparently… she deserves all the good things in the world except _him_.

Shoving her phone back inside her purse, Lois resolves to find a random, attractive stranger to dance with. Someone who she'll forget tomorrow, because really, she is so _done_ with relationships. Maybe a blonde. She's never dated a blonde. It would be a nice change-up - oh wait, there was Oliver Queen that one night, even if it wasn't technically a date. Alright, well, maybe someone with dyed blue hair.

And why shouldn't she have some fun? She looks great in this dress. If her drink supply is any indication, a lot of guys are interested in her. In fact, a guy with dyed blue hair is over there, and he's certainly not bad looking.

Just as she stands, a voice next to her begins to speak. And to her surprise, it is a voice she recognizes.

"You know… I'd offer to buy you a drink...but it looks like you have enough of those already."

Lois spins around, only to see, of all people, Bruce _freaking_ Wayne.

_God. Effing. Dammit._

Lois cannot believe it. She honestly cannot believe it. You know who is up to her neck in ex-boyfriend problems? That's right. Lois Lane. And you know who doesn't need any more ex-boyfriend problems? Lois Lane.

But here is yet another one, in this nightclub, looking at her with a forced playboy smirk.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Lois demands icily, preparing to gather up a few of her drinks and do the smart thing - run away. Because really, Bruce Wayne is nothing but trouble. Maybe not trouble in the same way that Lex was, but yes, he is _still_ trouble.

He raises an eyebrow at her. "I'm Bruce Wayne. This is a nightclub. Do the math."

Oh, how she _loathes_ the way he revels in his playboy status. He is such a goddamn brat. Always has been.

Discreetly, she examines him. She was able to recognize him based on the barest outlines and the sound of his voice, but overall, Lois cannot distinguish his features very well in this light. All she has heard about him recently is information relating to the lawsuit with Lexcorp, and the basic reports of his irresponsible partying activities. A part of her is curious to see him clearly. Another part would be happy to never see him again.

"I thought you only pollute the Gotham nightclubs with your presence."

He snorts, but doesn't crack a smile. "You _have_ always been skilled at flinging insults."

He is not wrong. And boy, does she have a stockpile of insults reserved for him. "It's my best talent, in all truth. But seriously...why are you here?"

"Me? The patent lawsuit has kept me in Metropolis for a few days now. It hasn't been satisfactory, and Cat said you wanted to catch up"

"Cat? You know C-?"

And then it hits Lois. Cat's demands that she go clubbing, that she have fun, that she stay at the bar waiting for 'someone special' - Cat has been trying to set Lois up with an old flame, knowing that one would be here tonight. And that old flame is Bruce.

"Yes," Bruce says. "Cat interviewed me a few weeks ago for the gossip column. She told me that you and I should reunite, and that, if I was in town, she'd be bringing you here tonight-"

"I am going to _kill_ her," Lois mumbles, just as the base drops on a techno song.

"What?" Bruce yells. "I can't hear you over the music!"

"I said, I'm going to kill Cat! But you're also on my list, buddy!" she spits at him angrily, not meaning her words, of course, but feeling that they are appropriate.

"Barely two minutes in the same room, and you're already threatening me," Bruce comments sardonically. "The sad part is, that's not even a record for us."

"It's even more sad when you consider the short time that 'us' was a thing."

"Sadder," Bruce corrects with a raised eyebrow. "Not 'more sad.' As a writer, you really should learn proper grammar"

There is a pause, during which Lois just gapes at him with furiously narrowed eyes. Then, she declares quite ferociously:

"Screw. you."

"Don't joke," Bruce replies passively. "There are a lot of people who would literally _kill_ for that sort of opportunity. More than I'd care to count."

Another pause - one that is rife with stifled curses from Lois. His personality is so goddamn strange - so annoyingly inexplicable and disparate from that of every man she has ever met.

Lex liked to make fun of the world to demonstrate his own superiority, but he always respected Lois enough to exclude her from his deprecation. And Clark used to tease her in a way that made her feel good about herself.

But Bruce… Bruce criticizes every word anyone says...and not even in a humorous way. It's like he is disillusioned with everything and everyone. Like nothing is impressive, nothing is enough, nothing is truly wonderful or remarkably interesting or impassioning. He's charming, but in a thinly veiled, empty or angry sort of way. Lois has always found it unsettling and confusing.

And Lois doesn't need any more mysteries.

"I'm outta here," she mumbles, not at all amused. Then, with a perhaps overly dramatic toss of her hair, Lois spins around, stalking her way toward the door. She doesn't have to put up with this crap. She is done, done, _done_ with men. No more. She'll die old and happily single, free from all this garbage.

"Lois, wait!" she hears Bruce call, and much to her chagrin, he keeps pace with her easily. And it's not like she can make a run for the door - not in these heels, and certainly not in a place this crowded.

"Can you take a _hint_?" Lois demands as she continues walking, and sadly, he continues following. Dammit, he's tall. What is it with her and tall guys?

"I still don't understand what I did to warrant this hatred," Bruce says, his voice exasperated. "I just want to talk."

"You seriously don't remember?"

"Oh, I remember. I just don't understand why you get so easily offended. You're honestly the most choleric person I know."

"For a playboy, you sure spend a lot of time reading the goddamn _dictionary_," Lois mutters. He must do it to be charming to unsuspecting girls. "And I'm not _choleric_."

"Do you even know what that word means?"

She doesn't, but she is not about to admit that to him.

"One more word out of your know-it-all mouth, Douche Wayne, and I swear-"

"'Douche Wayne?' Very mature. And you're the woman who won a Pulitzer?"

"Three Pulitzers. And your jokes aren't exactly funny, either."

"I'm not really joking. I'm just stating facts-"

"-in a snarky way-"

"-but if it makes you more comfortable, I'll drop the humor. I've never enjoyed jokes anyway. And truly… I do want to talk you. In an adult conversation."

When she turns to look at him, she sees that his expression is dead-serious. And somehow, in that moment, even in this odd lighting, he seems more real than he ever has. Maybe a little steely, even. Something about his expression seems vaguely familiar.

"Please," he says with a sort of finality. "I'm not asking for anything but a conversation over a cup of coffee here. And maybe...a favor."

"A favor? _God_, that is _not_ happening."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Lois. This is a professional favor - one that I suspect that you, as a reporter, might be immensely interested in."

The music pounds as their conversation reaches a contemplative gap. What could he possibly mean? Bruce Wayne is strictly gossip column subject matter - Lois covers the big news. So what is he offering her? She shouldn't care, regardless of what it is. But why is Lois so curious? He _does_ seem dead-set on talking to her, and Bruce Wayne doesn't waste his time on just anyone.

What does she have to lose? Other than her dignity, of course. But then again, she is capable of kicking his ass if necessary.

"We are _not_ talking in a nightclub," Lois asserts. "Who knows what we'll do after a few drinks? Plus... you've always been a creep and I don't exactly trust you."

"Don't flatter yourself, Lois," Bruce replies. "If anyone has something to fear, it's me. You're too ambitious for your own good, and I'm a vulnerable rich boy looking for innocent companionship."

"Let's not forget who broke up with whom. I didn't want you then, and I still don't want you now."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? _I_ broke up with _you_."

"As if! I walked out on you. You were _begging_ me to stay."

He seems mildly revolted by the thought. "I was begging you to _leave _Gotham. I even paid for your plane ticket."

"That's a lie. It was paid for on my credit card."

"Prove it."

"What, and _you_ can prove your claims? I don't think so, playboy."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: So someone complained about my portrayal of Bruce? I was a little confused at why, but it seems like the person disapproved of my choice of having Bruce appear as a playboy to the public because apparently that's comic book inaccurate? Though it depends on the media, Bruce may sometimes be a serious businessman, but he oftentimes PRETENDS to be a playboy to throw off suspicions of his alter ego. Here, it is beyond a doubt that Bruce is a savvy businessman - the point is that people tend to underestimate him due to his facade in the press (as Lex did). **

**I'm traveling at the current moment so my ability to check over for typos is rather limited.**

**Third book is coming along nicely! **

**Got to go! Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review! (Also, someone asked me if they could make fanart for this series. PLEASE DO! And send the link to me via tumblr messaging if you can). **


	54. Chapter Twenty - Request

_CHAPTER TWENTY - REQUEST_

Metropolis may be a bustling city, but Lois knows her coffee shops. She knows how to avoid the touristy areas - knows which cafes will be relatively empty. And with Bruce Wayne - playboy billionaire - accompanying her, she knew that they _especially_ needed privacy. He is far too recognizable, too famous, and paparazzi are always circling him somewhere, like vultures eager to swoop in and snap photos.

Thus, Lois has dragged Bruce to an isolated little shop, deep in the heart of the city, that is mostly void of people. Its minimal number of customers can be attributable to its rather unappetizing, bitter coffee beverages. Given the negative reviews online, and the poor quality of its most important product, people never return to this place after their first visit - unless they positively enjoy the empty atmosphere.

It's honestly a wonder that the place has stayed in business.

But then again, if Bibbo Bibbowski can keep a bar open, she can only conclude that businesses in Metropolis have it _easy_.

Now, Lois and Bruce have slid into a booth toward the back of building, seating themselves on opposite sides of the wooden table. An elderly waitress comes to take their orders, and despite the infamously bitter flavor of the coffee, Lois orders a cup. As a coffee addict, she desperately needs the caffeine, and can ignore the taste if necessary. But while Lois takes her drink with cream and sugar, Bruce requests something that she wouldn't dare try at this place: coffee, black with no sugar, milk, or anything else. Lois thinks she will enjoy watching him gag.

In the quietude of the room, they both descend into an awkward silence. Somehow it was easier speaking to one another with music pounding in their ears. Here, it seems like they are the last two people on Earth, and given their pasts together, that is not a desirable situation in the least.

They sip their drinks. Over her coffee cup, Lois lets herself scrutinize him. Unlike Lex, who looks the same as he has for years, Bruce has changed. His hairstyle is different; back when she dated him, his hair was shaved close to his head along the sides, with the center filled with longer, spikey hair. This made him look younger - more rebellious and adventurous. Now, it is uniform in style, businesslike in the way each dark brown strand clings close to his scalp.

Overall, he really _does_ seem older. There is stubble on his chin, light but noticeable, that was not there when she knew him last. She can spot creases on his forehead - worry lines, she thinks they're called - that must have recently appeared. He even seems bulkier. Tall, as he has always been, but… more muscular. Maybe he has pursued bodybuilding. In her opinion, he looked better - healthier - when he was lean. He probably wouldn't appreciate if she told him that.

Dark circles of exhaustion, reminiscent of bruises, rest underneath his eyes. And those eyes seem to be the only constants, the only things unchanged, on this person she used to know.

They are blue, but not in the same way that Clark's eyes are blue (then again, _no one_ has eyes like Clark). Bruce's eyes have always seemed so pale, so icy, that they seem almost white in color. Their contrast with his dark circles and tan complexion is so startling that it gives his eyes a _knifelike_, piercing quality. This impression is only compounded by a dark, disconcerting sort of intelligence in his gaze, visible as his eyes even flit around the room like twin microscopes, examining and dissecting everything. It's certainly not the sort of you glint you'd expect to see in the eyes of a supposedly dimwitted playboy.

Yes, he looks older. Definitely more tired. While considering him in this way, she finds herself unsurprised as he takes huge gulps from his extraordinarily bitter coffee cup, his features unflinching. Clearly, he needs the caffeine as desperately as she does, if not more so.

"So... " Lois begins, finding the silence unbearable. "Did you fire that guy?"

"What guy?" Bruce asks in a toneless voice as he examines the dregs of his coffee cup, which has been emptied thanks to his fast drinking.

"You know who! The guy you had me kicked out of Wayne Enterprises for yelling at."

Bruce gives her a patronizing look. "Lois, you _barged_ into one of my board meetings, screaming at one of my fellow executives. You weren't an employee, so you had no authorization to be there. And because you refused to leave, I was forced to call security."

Lois sets her jaw. "He was embezzling company funds and running a Ponzi scheme. I had _proof, _and he needed to go to jail. Who else was gonna confront him?"

"You don't value discretion, do you? Clearly, you didn't have to confront him during a _board meeting_. You could have consulted me privately. Instead, all of my coworkers thought that I was having my girlfriend stalk them."

"Your security guards threw me on the curb."

"You broke several of their bones as they were dragging you out."

"Besides the point," Lois dismissively. "Here's the point: the guy was guilty, wasn't he?"

"Well...yes…we had to fire him."

"So I was right, and _you_ were overreacting."

He rolls his eyes. "Lois, you wrote the book on overreacting. I don't think you have a right to judge me on the matter."

She takes offense to that. "At least," she begins with a glare, "I'm not some two-faced rich boy who acts 'fun-loving' in public, but assumes the personality of an icicle once out of the public eye."

There are many reasons why they ended their relationship. Bruce's personality was certainly a significant factor. Lois met Bruce in Gotham five years ago, when she was moving her sister Lucy move into a private school that Bruce's ward - a boy named Dick Grayson - also attended. And while Bruce seemed lively and humorous in public, or compassionate around his ward, she soon realized that, when she was in private with him, he was rather cold. Like emotion was something foreign to him. And Lois, being a rather emotional person, couldn't deal with it. Vice versa was also true - Lois burned too brightly for Bruce to accommodate. In fact, the only times the two ever seemed passionate toward one another was when they were arguing - and those arguments were _explosive_.

Whereas Lex was _hungry_, whether for power or intellectual stimulation, Bruce is clinical. Like a scientist. Stating facts, and not 'should be's' or desires. And whereas Clark was all optimism, Bruce is all pessimism. How someone so wealthy and easy-going can have a personality like that, Lois doesn't know. Why he hides it from everyone else is even more mysterious.

Currently, Bruce smirks slightly, but does not really commit to it, so it ends up looking like a lopsided grimace. "An icicle, huh? That sounds sort of tough. Are you complimenting me on my masculinity?"

"Not nearly. You must get enough of that from Vicki. You two are still together..._right_?" Lois asks pointedly, with a pleasant, gloating, forced smile. She cocks her head to the side with false inquisitiveness.

Bruce purses his lips. Then, his eyes cast downwards. His tone, when he speaks, is so even that it seems unnatural. Like someone trying to smooth out their own anger. "Not exactly, no. But I suspect she told you that months ago."

"She's a smart girl, that Vicki Vale."

"Are you complimenting my choice in women, or complimenting Vicki for breaking up with me?"

"The latter. I mean, you dated me, so obviously your choice is women is fantastic. But your ability to keep them around leaves _much_ to be desired. I mean, you interpret everything I say as a compliment to you. That's a little vain, don't you think?"

"I'm not as bad of a boyfriend as you believe."

"My experience tells me otherwise. How many of our dates did you miss?"

"You never wanted to meet during the day," Bruce tells her nonchalantly. "And my nights are always booked."

"Oh yes. I should have totally forgiven you for spending each night partying, without so much as inviting me to come along."

"I had an adopted son to take care of. And don't act like you were the perfect girlfriend. You were always snooping around my house. Always trying to pry into my personal business. I don't think you have a concept of 'privacy' in relationships."

"Because you always give vague answers to _everything_," Lois points out. "I'm a reporter. I need clear-cut facts. And when you say cryptic things like 'my nights are always booked…' it drives me crazy. So I investigate."

"Hold on," Bruce interjects. "We were together for...what? Two weeks? The problems we had were pretty trivial, especially when you consider how brief our time together was. After all, I said I wanted an adult conversation right now. And it seems like whenever you're around...I turn into a child."

Lois exhales hugely. "Fine. Let's be adults. How's Dick? And Alfred?"

Bruce's features soften somewhat. "Dick's doing fine. In fact, he's graduating college early. Alfred is the same as always. Thank you for asking. How is your sister?"

"Partying it up in your city. I'm afraid that she's following in my footsteps, to be honest." Another sigh. "And now that we've had civil small talk… can we move onto the reason you asked me here?"

"Of course, there is _one_ additional thing that I need to ask before we get to business."

"What?"

Bruce pauses before he asks "Are you dating Superman?"

And there it is. The punch in the gut. Because a few months ago, the answer would have been yes, and Lois would have been forced to formulate a believable lie. But now… now when she tells Bruce no, it is a complete truth. Clark wants as little to do with her as possible.

Lois has never been so upset by her own honesty and struggles to keep a look of sadness from crossing her features.

"Of course not. Never thought someone like you would believe tabloid garbage."

Bruce scrutinizes her face with those knifelike eyes. Perhaps she is cracking, like clay, under all her emotions, and he can see it on her skin.

"Why do you even want to know?" Lois demands defensively, afraid that he is seeing through her facade. Her facade of being nonchalant, that is - not her facade of being uninvolved with Superman. Because right now, the latter part is not even a facade at all.

Bruce shrugs. "You asked about my infamous love life. Since yours is all over the news, true or not, I might as well return the favor. So you haven't dated anyone since Lex? Did he really disillusion you so much?"

Lois rolls her eyes. "I've dated since Lex - despite how much he poisoned my view of relationships. In fact, I was dating a guy pretty seriously, until…" She trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

"You? Dating someone seriously? I'm too skeptical to believe something like that," Bruce comments with raised eyebrows. "I'd have to see to believe it."

"I was pretty serious with Lex before, too," Lois counters with exasperation, trying to avoid speaking about Clark further. "Admittedly, that was a mistake, but just because I couldn't stand _you_ doesn't mean I can't hold relationships."

"And what exactly did Lex do to you? _I _know he's a snake, but I'm suing him, so my view is biased. But what turned his once loyal girlfriend against him?"

Visions of Qurac flash before Lois's eyes, like a movie on fast-forward. The sounds of gunshots. The little girl running away. Blood oozing out of her shoulder. The feeling of the hot sand against her skin as she waited to die.

"Lex sells weapons to criminals. I know people who have gotten hurt. That should be enough to explain my newfound dislike," she tells him grimly.

A pause. Bruce's expression darkens, making the circles under his eyes appear as the blackest of shadows. His face is interesting like that - very angular, and defined so that every muscle and bone is darkly contoured. Then, he speaks again.

"But you're _Lois Lane_. Why haven't you exposed him yet, being the Pulitzer winner that you are?"

"Lex is a genius. And that genius extends to his ability to cover his own ass."

"And what about the other guy?" he asks.

"What other guy?"

"The other guy that you dated. The other serious one."

Bruce's tone is strange, and suddenly, she feels like a con-artist being interrogated by a police officer. It seems like he is looking for certain facts from her - things that he knows, but need to be verified. But how much could Bruce really know about her? They haven't spoken in years.

Lois rubs her temples and groans. Really, she can't - won't - talk about Clark. Especially since her feelings for Clark are so disparate from those she has felt toward any other guys. How can she explain that she is still totally, desperately, pathetically in love with a guy who can't be bothered to feel the same way? He'll think that she is a fool. And his current arrogance is demeaning enough.

"Why do you _care_? "

"I'm _trying_ to get a sense of who you are nowadays. It's been years, Lois. And my request of you will be pretty significant. I need to prove that I can trust you. What if your new boyfriend is another Lex?"

Lois glares at him for a few seconds, contemplating standing and leaving. "Ex-boyfriend. He's my ex-boyfriend."

"So what made you end it with him?"

Bruce is staring directly at her, knifelike eyes cutting in her face. So when she falters, when she hesitates, he sees it as clearly as the light of day. The change in his expression, in response to the change in hers, is instantaneous. Now, his features align into something that looks decidedly similar to surprise.

"Damn ….he broke up with _you_ didn't he?"

Lois can only stare at the table and mumble: "...So what?"

Bruce, on the other hand, seems intrigued. "And who was this man who knocked the all-powerful Lois Lane off her high horse?"

A part of her wants to scream something cruel. Something that disparages Clark and tells Bruce to shut his goddamn mouth because the last thing she needs is him _meddling _in her personal business. Or bringing up emotions that are sure to smash her heart into little, _stupid_, jagged pieces that cannot be repaired.

But Lois knows that doing any of those things would be immature, and would probably only bring Bruce satisfaction. Especially after the jibe she made about Vicki.

"He's another Planet employee," Lois mutters briefly. "We worked closely together. Got emotional about it. Decided we liked each other. Maybe even loved each other."

Bruce's gaze is like a spotlight on her, examining her every feature for weaknesses. There is nothing soft or empathetic within his eyes. Just ice. And maybe… a neutral understanding.

"Loved? That _is_ rather serious. Don't tell me you two moved in together or something."

Lois sets her jaw, and Bruce reads her expression yet again (she hates that he can do that so easily). His eyebrows knit together.

"Dear God, Lois...what, were you considering _marrying_ this guy?"

She doesn't respond.

"Well I'll be damned…" Bruce remarks, his voice like that of a scientist seeing something unusual in a microscope. "I never would have expected something like that from you, Lois. It's one thing to use the L-word. It's another thing entirely to consider wearing a ring. In fact, I thought our refusal to settle down was something we had in common. All I'm wondering now is...what brought your fairy tale to an abrupt halt?"

Lois chooses her words carefully. Not for Bruce's sake, but for her own, simply because there are some things that she would rather not admit to herself. "I think he decided that we were too different for it to work out."

"Well, if you yelled at him like you used to yell at me-"

"I didn't have a reason to," Lois grits out. "He wasn't like you. He wasn't like anyone else I've been with. Being with him was easy, like…" She trails off again, scrutinizing the wood of the table with utmost intensity. Then, she begins to chuckle, shaking her head as she does so. "I don't even know why I'm telling you about this. You probably just find it stupid."

"You presume too much. Frankly, my personal life has been rather barren lately. It's good to know you got some semblance of happiness, for however short a time."

They sit in silence again, and Lois is stunned to discover that she feels almost... comfortable around him? Despite everything?

If anything, he seems genuinely interested in her life and feelings, and that interest is more than most of the other people she knows can boast. In fact… she hasn't talked about her emotions at all, with anyone, since the breakup. Something about this is cathartic. And Bruce, with his clear detachment, seems like a wisely chosen confidant. No matter what she says, his lack of emotion prevents him from judging her.

"So what's the dumb request that you want to make of me?" she asks, a bit more willing to fulfil it.

Silence again. Then, Bruce glances around quickly, examining the coffee shop for eavesdroppers. Upon finding nothing, he leans closer to her, and says something unexpected in a hushed, intensely serious voice.

"I know you're investigating a man named Emmet Vale."

Lois narrows her eyes. "How do _you_ know that?"

Bruce's mouth quirks at the corner, but does not even fully change into a smirk. "I have my sources. But that's beside the point."

"Bruce…" Lois begins with narrowed eyes, "Does this have to do with your lawsuit? Or something else?"

"It's a little bit of a lot of things that I'm trying to do. A lot of things that I'd think you'd agree with. Now, how much do you know about my lawsuit?"

"I know Lex's company is accused of stealing your company's designs."

"But designs of what?"

Lois is still very much confused by his behavior. "Prosthetic designs. New ones. Advanced ones. Anyone on the street can tell you that, and I doubt you need _me _to remind you."

"Think, Lois," Bruce orders her. "Vale. What does he specialize in?"

"Bioengineering. Which means…" she trails off, the gears in her head turning. Prosthetics. Bioengineering. A professor accused of illegal human experiments.

"Bruce," Lois begins again, "Just _how_ advanced are those prosthetics?"

His expression is so hard that it resembles the visage of a stone statue, or something more gruesome. A gargoyle, perhaps.

"Advanced enough," he says slowly, "for Lex to _make_ soldiers with them, instead of simply healing injured ones."

In Lois's opinion, the last things Lex needs, on top of satellites and guns and tanks, is the ability to turn human beings into weapons as well. After all - he has already turned innocent people into targets, or into killers. She has witnessed those transformations firsthand, and anger seems to pour into her veins as she just thinks about all that she has experienced, thanks to Lex.

Now gripped by determined focus, she asks: "How did he get the designs? I can't imagine that your company was careless with them. You hardly ever get into patent disputes."

"We pay our employees well to keep our information safe. They sign binding contracts, and most of the time, people are reluctant to cross a company as powerful as mine."

"But someone was a weak link, I assume."

Bruce nods solemnly. He is still leaning over the table, telling her the story rather urgently. "There was a glitch in our computer system. A virus. Though it was minor, it spread to a computer that contained files on the prosthetics project. My scientists probably could have resolved the problem themselves, but I wanted _them_ to focus on their work. So I was careless, and let one of my otherwise very reputable computer experts fix the issue. I should have never given him access to the files, I know… but I wanted the virus completely _gone_, not lurking somewhere in Wayne Enterprise cyberspace. So I allowed him whatever tools - or more importantly, whatever _passcodes_ \- he needed to do the job. And he was successful."

"I sense a 'but' coming."

"But shortly thereafter, this man randomly received a _ludicrous_ amount of money from an unknown relative, and decided to move to Argentina without so much as a whisper to his co-workers. His resignation came by mail. Next thing I know, I'm hearing that Lexcorp is also developing prosthetics for the U.S. government - prosthetics that double as performance enhancers for soldiers."

Lois shudders at the thought. Men, mutilated surgically to receive enhanced strength and abilities. And her own father, ordering these artificial "Supermen" to invade whatever country or attack any enemy they please.

Regaining her composure, she asks, "How new was he at the company?"

"Very new. He was young, but came well-recommended from a relatively small, yet successful internet tech company."

"What was the company called?"

"Arion Sitebuilding. Which is-"

"Indirectly owned by Lexcorp," Lois finishes for him. After all the research she has conducted on Lex, she can easily name his business contracts. "But I guess you didn't realize that until it was too late."

"Ten percent of all companies in the world are indirectly owned by Lexcorp," Bruce points out. "It never occurred to me that all of its employees could be spies."

Lois rummages in her purse for a few seconds, finally locating a blue pen that she wraps her fingers around. Without any paper nearby, she takes a hold of her napkin and begins to write notes on it.

"Did you announce plans to make the prosthetics? Beforehand?"

"Yes," Bruce says. "It was something that was meant to improve the world. We wanted people to know about it."

"Then Lex knew about it too. And he sent some little inconspicuous computer expert to you for a job, so he could steal your files. Maybe even plant the virus in the first place," Lois postulates. "Then, once he had your designs, he probably had a nice overseas situation waiting for him, via Lex's bank account."

She pauses, and then scrutinizes Bruce's face, suspicious. "That kind of corporate espionage is serious business. What's so goddamn special about these prosthetics, Bruce? Why would Lex want them _this_ badly? If that guy had blabbed about what Lex had ordered him to do-"

"I told you - they're very advanced. More than you know. But the scientists that developed them are the only people who truly understand how they work. And currently, those scientists are still safely contracted at Wayne Enterprises. So now…Lex has brought the designs to another expert in the field. To discover what makes them tick, since he cannot discover such things himself."

"And you think that expert is Vale?" Lois wonders. "Listen, Bruce, as I said, Lex is a genius. I don't think he'd have any problem learning about your designs on his own."

"My scientists are on the same IQ level as Lex is. And their ideas for these designs… were very unique. Even Lex cannot decipher them without years of background in the subject. Which Emmet Vale possesses. Why else would an esteemed Ivy League professor risk his reputation, if not for enormous sums of money? And that money comes courtesy of Lex Luthor, in exchange for his expertise."

Lois remembers Emil Hamilton, another person just as intelligent, if not more so, than Lex Luthor. Emil Hamilton - the Nobel Laureate who agreed to help Clark explore his powers. Help, that is, until he betrayed him so that he could sell Superman's alien physiology to governments and other scientists alike. Would it truly be so unbelievable for someone like Emmett Vale to take the same path - to be led astray by greed?

"You still haven't requested anything from me," Lois points out. "I mean, do you want me to write an article on this right now? It's a great story, but I need cold, hard evidence."

"This story will be difficult to prove," Bruce replies. "Evidence and information will take time. But whatever you find, as you find it, verified or not, I want you to relay… to me..."

"And _why_ would I do that?" Lois demands. "Why would you want stuff that's unverified? You can't use it in court. In fact, you're having a difficult enough time proving that your goddamn patent's been violated."

"It's of interest to me," Bruce says simply.

"But from what I heard from his former teaching assistant, Vale is conducting _illegal_ _human_ _experiments_. So even if that has any relation to your prosthetics, however terrible it may be, it won't get you _anything_ for your company. It's the police department's problem, not yours. Your main concern should be that Lex plans on making money on tech your people designed."

"My concerns go far beyond my finances, Lois. I need you to look into Vale, and look into him deeply. I don't think this is just a money making scheme for Lex. I think this is something more. Something worse, if I'm not mistaken."

"And how does telling _you_ help fix anything?"

"Because this may be it, Lois," Bruce replies. "This might be the evidence you need to put Lex in jail. Human experiments, funded on his dime? Definitely prison worthy."

"His expensive lawyers will dance their dance, and save his ass. Nothing will get proven. As usual."

"I also have very good, very expensive lawyers," Bruce remarks. "And if you help me with this, I'll make _sure_ that he is indicted."

She considers that. Bruce is just as wealthy as Lex, and if they find enough evidence, mixed with the right lawyers, Lex may find himself unable to worm himself out of a sentence. Bruce's funding may be enough to tip the scales in their favor.

"And besides," he continues nonchalantly, "there will be added benefits for you."

"What are you talking about?" Lois asks, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

"If Lex realizes what we're doing, he'll move his operation out of Metropolis. So we need to be discreet. We need to have an excuse to talk to one another on a regular basis."

Lois's eyes widen. "Please don't suggest what I think you're suggesting-"

"We'll pretend to date. It's rather believable - we're both single, tabloid grabbers. In reality, however, we'll be exchanging information. And if necessary, I'll lend you investigative resources as you require them. The best that money can buy."

"I'll help you, but I am _not_ pretending to date you."

"Why not?" Bruce asks. "Lex can't know what's happening. We need to have our excuses sorted out. And you - you should be excited."

"Excited?" Lois repeats, incredulous at his nerve.

"Of course," Bruce states, as if it is obvious. "Whenever you're seen with me, you'll be making your ex-boyfriend - the one you're still in love with - jealous. Enough to make him realize just what he gave up."

* * *

The makeshift Batcave is rather rudimentary to Bruce, but it will have to do. Metropolis can only be a _temporary_ base of operations, and once they leave, there can be no trace that they were ever here. So nothing is drilled in. Nothing is tied down.

This place was once a filled textile warehouse - now it is abandoned and empty. Bruce Wayne purchased it months ago, in case he would ever have _business_ in Metropolis beyond the literal business he conducts as CEO of his company. To maintain secrecy, there are advanced locks installed on every door and window. Signs of residence are indicated only by the large metal suitcases strewn along the floor. While most of them are closed, six of them are thrown open, their contents removed and unloaded.

One suitcase's set of contents - a large computer screen - stands in front of a revolving chair, with the monitor divided into four rectangles which display different types of information. Bruce examines all of them, his eyes darting across them with almost mechanical precision.

"And how did your reunion with Ms. Lane go, Master Bruce?" Alfred asks, almost startling him as he carries Bruce's dinner to the computer. "Is she just as iron-willed as she was all those years ago?"

"Probably more," he replies, taking the dish out of Alfred's hands. It's takeout - something at which Alfred visibly wrinkles his nose. Bruce knows the old butler prefers to cook, but without a kitchen in this warehouse, they will have to make do. "It took a lot of convincing to get her to talk to me. And even then, she was very reluctant to say anything too revealing."

"And what _did_ she ultimately say? Are the rumors about her true?"

Bruce glances at the images of Emmett Vale projected on the monitor. "She definitely has some sort of 'in' with Emmett Vale. And she promised that she would give me any acquired information on him."

"Master Bruce," Alfred begins inquisitively, "Why don't you interrogate… or perhaps _intimidate_… Vale yourself, to gain this information? You've always been rather good at that."

"I would like to," Bruce replies with a degree of exasperation. "But this isn't my city. It's _his_."

"And suddenly, _you're_ a believer in jurisdictions? I do believe that is hypocritical, Master Bruce."

"It's not that," Bruce denies. "It's not that Superman has claimed Metropolis. I don't give a damn about that sort of thing. But if the reports are true, then Superman can see _through_ walls. And hear for miles. So if I appear as the Batman, and he notices me, then he'll start consciously investigating my identity. And with powers like his...he'll probably succeed in discovering it. I need to protect the people in my life. So Batman will not be making an appearance in Metropolis - not unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Then is it really smart for you to even _pretend_ to date a woman who is supposedly involved with Superman?"

"I doubt Superman would assume anything of Bruce Wayne - a notorious playboy who is expected to date freely. Right now she is the only person I can trust to get the information I need to indict Lex. Besides, I'm not positive that she is _truly_ involved with him."

Alfred raises an eyebrow. "How so?"

Now, Bruce glances at another set of photos on the monitor - a series of images featuring Superman and Lois Lane, together. "When I asked about him, her pupils expanded. Which clearly shows intense affection. But when she told me that they weren't dating, her body language indicated _no signs_ that she was lying."

"So perhaps she has an unrequited love for the Man of Steel? Something that never evolved into a relationship."

Bruce scratches his chin. "Maybe. But then she told me about her most recent relationship - a co-worker that she fell in love with, who later broke up with her. And she made it pretty clear that she is still very much in love with him. Her pupils expanded yet again, to the same size. I find that odd."

"So she is in love with two men at the same time," Alfred postulates. "It is not unheard of, Master Bruce."

Bruce recalls the way she yelled at him when he had suggested making her ex-boyfriend jealous. Her fury, and her emotions toward this person, were made clear as day.

"Absolutely not!" she shrieked when he suggested that he visit her workplace. "We can appear that way - like a couple - in the tabloids or to Lex, if that's what you want, but you are, under no circumstances, to meet _him_. Do you understand?"

Anger is an ugly emotion on many people, but not on Lois Lane. It suits her features - already arched eyebrows and dark eyes that seem to brighten in color whenever her voice loudens. A voice that, Bruce remembers, rose considerably in pitch when she spoke, suggesting a defensive reaction. Her body language was stiff to further this impression. She would have punched him, if necessary. Bruce could tell that much. He made a mental note.

"It's one thing to be in love with two men," Bruce replies, back in the current moment with Alfred. "It's another thing _entirely_ for her pupils to expand in an identical fashion, and further, for her to use the same exact tone of voice when referring to them both. Love can occur simultaneously, but I seriously doubt it ever occurs equally. Who would admire a heartbreaking co-worker as much as they admire someone like Superman? Lois isn't shallow, but this is basic human nature we're talking about."

"Do you think Superman is this co-worker? That they're one and the same?"

"Up until now, I wouldn't think so. I mean, _I _wear a mask. He doesn't. I find it hard to believe that he can effectively protect a secret identity. But who knows? Maybe I was wrong. And if he has a secret identity, that poses a whole new danger."

"How so?" Alfred asks.

"The information on Superman that I was able to hack out of Lex's computer was very comprehensive. And Lex is just as intelligent as I am, if not more. So if _I _can determine that Superman has a secret identity, then Lex is just as capable of doing so. And that means that there are hours - many hours - during which Superman is vulnerable. He might have an apartment, or a workspace, that he visits regularly, or leaves unattended. Somewhere that Lex can strategically place Kryptonite."

Bruce stands up suddenly. "We need to catch Lex's hand in these human experiments as soon as possible. The faster we do that, the faster everyone's safety is secured- including Superman's. No murders will occur on my watch."

"Master Bruce - there is something I need to tell you, though," Alfred says, just as Bruce prepares to walk off. He gestures to the monitors, where yet another set of images is shown. This time, they feature Lex Luthor's dark-haired assistant - a woman that Bruce has not been able to get out of his mind. And not for reasons considered usual for a playboy. "The girl you asked me to research - there was nothing."

"So she's clean? Huh. It was just a hunch, I suppose. The way she was standing suggested military training, and dyed black hair is rather unusual for a top-CEO's secretary."

"No, Master Bruce. I'm not just talking about her criminal records. There's nothing on her - period. I can't find her in the Lexcorp employee records. I can't even find a physical match to her appearance."

"You're saying she doesn't exist?" Bruce wonders.

"According to records, she doesn't. DNA testing might reveal more, but it seems like she has been wiped from all databases."

Bruce scrutinizes her pictures with narrowed eyes. "Now why would someone do that, if she is just an assistant?"

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING **

**A/N: I'm flying through the third book woohoo. **

**Also, I've changed my tumblr url again. I'm back at action-comics. You should check it out because i post about Superman non-stop. **

**Sorry this is a little a late. I was really busy today and last night I forgot to post. **

**As for the people asking me to update, I've been updating weekly for like over a year now. Once a week. That's how I post. Never more than once. Please be patient with me. **

**Additionally, I would like to recommend the Superman series that DC is currently running. Rebirth has destroyed the New 52 (YES) so now preboot Superman and Lois Lane are raising their beautiful son Jon and I'm just... it's so good. Read it. (It's not to be confused with the Rebirth: Superman or Action Comics series). **

**That's all for today! Please review! Hope you enjoyed! **


	55. Chapter Twenty-One - Code

_CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - CODE_

"Is the earpiece working?" Clark asks suddenly.

For the last few minutes, without even consciously knowing that she was doing it, Lois found herself examining the curvature of his jaw, or his parted lips. They always seem separated like that, as if he is constantly ready to smile. But the sound of his voice seems to break the spell that held her concentration, and she shakes her head fiercely to bring her mind back to its proper place.

_Dammit,_ she curses herself internally. What she would give to go back to how she was, so many, many months ago. When Clark Kent was competition - a threat that she resented. Back then, she never spent time gazing affectionately at his face, and for that reason, she never humiliated herself so fully. Right now, she can only imagine how _desperately _she might have be staring, if he were not wearing those thick-rimmed glasses that obscure those eyes she loves so much. Those eyes that, no matter what, appear to be the most beautiful color on Earth - no, in the _universe_ \- to her.

Her old self would laugh derisively at her. And he...he has a million different types of vision, so there is little doubt in her mind that he could tell exactly what she was doing, and exactly what she was thinking.

God, if someone invented a potion that allowed her to switch off her emotions, Lois would gladly chug the whole thing down.

"Lois, can you please talk to me? We have a job to do," Clark says almost impatiently, but still politely so. "The earpiece. Can you hear anything from it?"

Lois switches on her own earpiece, and by covering her other ear, she can easily detect sounds emanating from the little device.

After heavily clearing her throat, she replies, "It's on."

"Good," Clark comments. "They were working last night, but I wanted to check."

Lois nods, mostly because she finds herself to be unable to hold a real conversation with him. So many words seem to bubble under her skin when she is around him - things that she knows that he won't want to hear. She figures that it's bad enough that Perry is forcing them to work together, despite everything.

But now they descend into silence so unbearable and heavy with implication that Lois cannot stand _that_ either. She needs to distract herself. She'll have to talk. They'll have to do _something_.

Frantically, Lois blurts, "It's been a long time since we've done this."

Clark cocks his head at her. "Done what?"

His facial expressions, which she used to be able to distinguish regardless of his disguise, are now back to being as inscrutable as when she first met him. Just how guarded is he trying to be around her? Very, she assumes. His hand tightly clutches the seatbelt pulled across his body, as if it is some sort of barricade that he is holding in place against her.

Lois gulps. "This. Shared a taxi. It's just strange now… y'know?"

Indeed, they are sitting inside a cab, on their way to Metropolis University. And while they have shared these vehicles many instances before, now that they are broken up, this time is drastically different. A full seat is between them - an empty space positively bursting with the implication of their separation. In fact, they both seem pressed against the windows, like two rivers trying to carve a wide canyon.

In the past, when they shared taxis, they sat closer together at the very _least_. There were times that Lois even fell asleep on his shoulder, or shared kisses with him in front of the rear window. And there was even one particularly embarrassing time when Lois was overloaded on wine from a dinner party and, much to the driver's chagrin, tried to get a little too _touchy-feely_ in the backseat with Clark. Luckily, despite his hysterical laughter, he was able to calm her down enough for her to fall asleep, thus avoiding any awkwardness.

She remembers the whole event only slightly, but in her memory, she can recall leaning against him as she lost consciousness, mumbling, "_I'm a mess, aren't I_?"

"_The most beautiful mess that ever was_," he whispered back, with a kiss against her forehead.

It is yet another day that will live on in Lois's memory, torturing her with things that she can no longer have.

Today, Clark is hoping to get an informal lunch meeting with Emmet Vale, his former professor, so that they can retrieve the information that has eluded Lois for so long. Luckily (or unluckily) for him, Clark's reputation as a reporter is not so well-known that Vale will immediately suspect him, and further, his disposition is so innocuous that Vale might find himself unable to turn him away.

"So you looked up his office hours?" Lois asks.

"Uh-huh," Clark replies. "He should be ready to leave as soon as we arrive."

She nods approvingly. "Good. You should distract him as soon as he leaves the room. That way, he'll forget to lock the door."

Conversely, he looks at _her_ disapprovingly. "Wait...you're planning on breaking into his office?"

"It's not breaking in if _he_ leaves the door open."

"Yes, it is!" Clark tells her indignantly. "It's still against the law!"

"I'm not going to steal anything! I'll just take photos of things I find." she assures him, her hands raised in surrender. "Besides, if this guy is conducting illegal _human_ experiments, we need proof. And his office may hold that proof. So I'm willing to risk a minor trespassing charge to get this guy behind bars."

He seems unconvinced, and more importantly, overly concerned. Toward her! Which Lois shouldn't find so endearing, but she is still stuck in post-break-up hell, so she figures she'll have feelings like these for a while.

"Lois, I don't want you to get in trouble. You could be sent to jail, or-"

God, he is _still_ such a boy scout.

"Who are you to talk?" Lois adds. "You trespass every time you fly over city - that's government airspace, for your information, which means that you could be shot down at any time. I, on the other hand, think _I'll_ be just fine - if anyone catches me, I'll just claim I got lost."

"Lois," he says again. And man oh man, she _cannot_ handle the way he _still_ says her name. Like some sort of gentle caress, not exactly urging her to be quiet but still enough to cause her to snap her mouth shut.

And then he just… doesn't say anything else? He just lets her name hang in the air like smoke, with nothing to follow it, while he sits there looking conflicted about something. And Lois - she just wants to scream. Or grab him by his tie and kiss him. Because holy cow, she is so goddamn… in love with him? Still? She hates it. _Hates_ it. His voice shouldn't do things to her. Neither should his appearance, or his politeness, or the way he looks at her.

But they do.

The cab squeals to a stop in front of the MetU science building, which is clearly old - unlike many buildings in Metropolis, which were destroyed after Mongol's attacks. With its amber-colored bricks and stone, its antiquity appears refreshing and formidable - like a fortress. It would be far more intimidating if not for the flowers blooming around its lawn, which are abundant in the spring air.

The stopping of the cab seems to wake Clark from the stupor that overwhelmed him, and he finally locates the courage to say something else to her. But his voice sounds oddly pained when he does speak. She supposes that pain stems from exasperation toward her. After all, he has never been good at even _showing_ negative emotions, so clearly he struggles to _voice_ them too.

"Just be careful, okay? Please?"

_Who even says 'please' as a question? God, that's cute too. What? Not it's not. _She should stop. She has to _stop_ thinking about him this way.

"You too, Smallville. I know how you feel about scientists," she mutters.

"This one is an old friend, though," he tells her with a small grin as he throws open the door. "Besides, he doesn't know that I'm...y'know."

He is already out of the car when Lois has a terrible epiphany. She didn't tell him. She didn't tell him that Vale could be meeting with Lex! How could she be so dumb? What if Vale is prepared to attack Clark, because Lex informed him of his secret identity? How could she have been so distracted by her own emotions and looking at him and...

"Gah!" Lois groans, clutching her head with her hands. Distraction was only part of the problem, she realizes. Really, she just didn't want to talk about Bruce around him. Because surely, he would ask about where she is getting her information. And if he finds out that a certain billionaire from Gotham has requested to spend time with her… well, perhaps some selfish and _vain_ part of her hopes that he'll become jealous and beg to restart what he ended.

But the more concerning possibility is this: what if he hears about Bruce, and simply doesn't care? What if he just says good riddance, good luck, and forgets about her? She doesn't even want to know if he's capable of that.

Regardless, she doesn't want him walking blindly into a dangerous situation with Vale. She already hurt him enough when Emil Hamilton attacked him.

Lois pulls out her wallet and throws a twenty at the cab driver, not even bothering to ask for change. Then, she sprints out of the car, toward the front steps, where Clark is just about to enter the building. She stops him short, cutting off his path to the door. By stepping between the glass entrance and his approaching body, she finds herself crammed between the two, with little personal space to call her own. In fact, their torsos are almost pressed together, making breathing difficult for her - and not because of her recent running.

Clark's lowered voice sounds flustered. "Lois? What - What are you doing? You weren't supposed to come out until the professor was gone. He'll recognize that you're with me, and then-"

She interrupts him, saying: "Clark, there's something...something I have to tell you..."

But then her eyes get caught in his eyes - because, from this close proximity, she can look past the glasses actually see his irises clearly. And God, she was _right_ before. They're still insanely beautiful.

This situation is far worse than she could have anticipated… because when he exhales, she can feel the gust of air ripple her hair. Can feel the warmth of his skin, just a few inches from her own. They're _that_ close to each other…and now... now she _really_ finds herself unable to breathe properly.

She continues staring at him, and he stares back. But soon she notices that his eyes are not looking at her the same way. Instead, his eyes are locked on her lips, looking fearfully at them. _Fearfully_.

And that's what snaps Lois out of yet another trance. Because, clearly, he does not want this. This connection that she is convinced they have. He's actually _afraid_ that she will act upon this emotion, upon this passion, and lean in and kiss him.

So she doesn't. She's stronger than this, dammit - and they have a job to do.

Gulping, she frantically tells him, "Vale. I think there's a possibility that he's working for Luthor."

Clark squints at her, and his body tenses all over at the very mention of Lex's name. "Luthor? Lex Luthor? How...how do you figure that?"

She exhales. "A source told me."

"Which source?"

From somewhere above them, a bell tolls, signaling the changing of the hour. It resonates so loudly that Lois can feel its vibration in her toes. Clark, with his super-hearing, does not seem to like the sound one bit. His right hand immediately flies to his ear, and he winces.

"I always hated that thing," he murmurs, glancing toward the roof of the science building, where the bell must be located. "Almost every building in the university has one too. It drove me crazy."

"Clark, you need to listen-"

He lightly - almost reluctantly - grabs her shoulders. "Listen, we don't have time to talk about this right now. Vale will be leaving his office any minute, and if I want to catch him before he leaves, I have to go _now_."

"But Lex knows your-"

Gently, he pulls her away from the doors, clearing a path for himself. "I'll keep my guard up. But we're going to be in public, so I doubt he'll try anything. Besides-" He taps his own earpiece, then brushes his finger against the one placed in her ear. "You'll be able to hear if I get into trouble, won't you? And we've always been good at rescuing each other."

Lois doesn't even know how to respond to that. Yes, she supposes? But then again, there have been many times that she was responsible for the troubles that plagued him.

Before she finds her voice, he tells her, "I'll give you the signal when it's time for you to make your way inside. Until then, wait out here. We'll talk about your informant later."

After that, he slips inside the building, letting the door shut behind himself.

* * *

It takes a while for Clark to leave with the professor. Lois stands outside, near the sidewalk, listening to their conversation on the earpiece. As far as she can tell, however, Clark's plan seems to be working. The professor greeted him warmly, seeming surprised at his appearance and totally ignorant to his work as a reporter.

Clark continues to talk avidly with his professor, asking about the status of a wide variety of projects he never got to finish due to his change in major, and the professor seems just as engaged. Finally, after several minutes, Clark suggests that they should go to lunch to catch up, and the professor agrees.

"_You don't think it's going to rain today, do you?_" Clark asks over the line.

"_Today?" _Vale wonders. "_Oh, no. It's beautiful outside. Haven't you seen?"_

Lois knows the hidden meaning behind Clark's question, though. It's the code she has been waiting for - one that they have used a lot over the past year, during a wide variety of investigations. In this case, she hopes it indicates that the professor was too distracted to lock his office door, now that they are gone.

Soon after she hears their exchange, she spots them walking out of the building, toward another taxi cab. Lois sinks into the shadows of some nearby trees so he does not recognize her. Luckily, he does not even grant her a glance - his conversation with Clark seems far too interesting to him. They're talking about genetics or something that Lois doesn't understand, and truly, she finds herself stunned by how much Clark knows on the subject.

During a point in the conversation when the professor is speaking, and he is not, Lois whispers into the earpiece: "I'm going in. Good luck, Smallville. And that guard we talked about? Keep it up."

The taxi pulls away, and Clark doesn't answer her. But she doesn't exactly blame him.

Soon enough, Lois has entered the science building and is standing outside Vale's office. The door is normal size and unremarkable, formed out of wood and bedecked with gold writing on a single, murky pane of glass in the upper portion of the material.

_Doctor Emmet Vale, Professor of Bioengineering, _it reads. Not pretentiously, either. The gold writing is rather faded, like Metropolis University hardly cares enough to maintain it.

Because it's lunch time, the hallway around Lois is rather empty. Students and other professors alike are probably walking around the city, seeking food, not boarded up in the science building. Nonetheless, she still glances to both sides, wary of students who may report on her trespassing. None are in sight. So she thrusts out her hand and grasps the doorknob, hoping that Clark did his job.

As she hears the sound of his conversation with the professor in her earpiece, she is stunned by the fact that the handle doesn't give. And Christ, Clark made it _seem_ like it worked too. Why would he do that?

Lois decides that his reasoning doesn't matter. She has a job to do, and she'll be _damned_ if she doesn't get it done. So she turns down the volume on the earpiece, hoping that he will not hear what she is doing, and that she can concentrate better without his bioengineering talk boring into her ears.

Thus, Lois's hands go to her hair, which is styled in an up-do that will, unfortunately, have to come down. After some fumbling, she pulls out a pair of bobby pins, both of which she immediately places in the lock.

It's been a long time since she has been forced to break into a room or an apartment to get information that would otherwise be kept secret. Hopefully, she still retains the skill set she once had. A skillset that developed during her childhood with a military father. The General was somewhat careless with classified files, and would oftentimes leave them under simple lock and key in their home - files that, she soon learned, she could read for herself with a little lockpicking ability.

Reporters tend to start early in life. God knows she did.

She struggles a bit for a while, but soon enough, she hears the telltale click of the lock giving way.

She suppresses a cheer as she places the bobby pins back into her pocket. Whatever reasons Clark had for faking success, they don't matter now.

When the door does open, she learns that it is not well oiled, and squeaks audibly. Nervous, Lois shimmies her way inside and locks the door behind her before it can make a drawn-out sound.

Now she is inside the office, and truly, it looks like any typical college professor's office might. There are certificates of varying sorts framed and placed on the walls. A fairly large mahogany bookshelf leans against one side of the room, filled to the brim with books titled with scientific names that Lois can hardly pronounce. Meanwhile, ungraded papers are piled on the wooden desk, next to a significantly smaller pile of graded papers. Most of them have sub-par grades marked on the top in red - and Lois can't help feeling a bit bad for the college students struggling with this material. She remembers when grades used to be important to her - but now, all she has is the next big story.

She glances around further. There are filing cabinets next to the bookshelf, so she heads to those first. Most of them require a key to open them, so she receives further practice with the bobby pins. But they reveal nothing of interest - term papers and grant applications and resumes from prospective research assistants.

Next, Lois tries the desk, carefully shuffling papers around while remembering their initial location. The desk itself faces the door, with its chair's back to a window. Nothing relating to prosthetics is visible.

Sighing, Lois turns to the computer on the desk. If relevant information is in this office, that is the only place left for it to be. She shakes the mouse, but of course, the computer is locked - meaning that it requires a password.

"Shit," Lois mutters, running her hands through her now freely-flowing hair. She has to guess the password. Somehow.

Then she thinks of an idea and pulls out her phone while briefly turning off her earpiece entirely. She doesn't want Clark to hear what she does next - for petty reasons, it's true, but she wants to break certain news to him on her own terms. Plus, she figures that if Vale hasn't attacked Clark yet, he _probably_ won't at all. She hopes. Desperately.

A few seconds after dialing, someone picks up.

"_Lois?"_ Bruce Wayne picks up on the other line, seeming somewhat surprised to receive her call. "_What's happening?"_

She cuts right to the chase, her voice lowered and her eyes trained cautiously on the door. "Right now, I'm in Emmett Vale's office, looking for the proof you want."

"_Already? You're better than I thought you were_."

"Regular people work on deadlines, Bruce. Speaking of which, it's only a matter of time before someone discovers me here. You said I'd have access to any investigative resources I want. Maybe it's a long shot, but I'm wondering if some of those resources could help me now."

"_What do you need_?" Bruce asks, his voice serious.

"I think the files you need might be on his computer. But it's password protected, and it's a safe bet that it has a set number of guesses before it locks me out entirely."

"_Lois, I've already tried to get into his files. There's nothing."_

"Have you ever considered, genius, that his computer isn't connected to the internet?" Lois asks, twisting a disconnected ethernet cable between her fingers. "Hacking's pretty useless when your computer's a lame duck. Clearly, they're being extra careful with their data."

"_So you want me to tell you his password?_"

"Yup. Otherwise, I'm going to have to start guessing, and that probably won't yield good results. So do you have some sort of advanced computer software, or-"

"_Tell me what's around his office."_

"What? How is that gonna help? If it was that easy, I'd do it myself. But this is an Ivy League professor, Bruce."

"_Just do it. Look for things hanging on the walls, or used as decor - things that look personal. _

"Fine," she grumbles. "There's a diploma. High school."

"_Name of the school_?"

"Manhattan Magnet."

"_No, that's not it. What else?"_

"Doctorate degrees. All from MetU, though. I doubt that gives any hints about his passwords."

"_Anything else?"_

"I don't see how this accomplishes anything, Bruce. God knows, I'd never make _my_ password the names of my past schools."

"_Just...look for photos. Maybe of family members or friends. Or mementos. Trust me - this is how we'll get those files." _

She spins around, scrutinizing the room. But then she locates something. Buried under the piles of papers on the desk is a photo frame, and Lois carefully pulls it out to examine it.

It's an image of three people standing in front of a pub. Three men, all around the same age with Vale smack in the middle. Each is wearing a t-shirt, declaring them winners of some sort of trivia contest. Or maybe it's an eating contest. She cannot really tell. All she knows is that this photo frame is the only one that the professor has.

"I found something. There's a picture here. Vale with two men, in front of a bar. I don't know who they are, though, so I don't see how it helps."

"_Can you make out the name of the bar?"_ Bruce asks urgently.

"Uh...yeah…" Lois says, bringing the frame closer to her face. "Um...Lacey's? I think I've heard of that place, actually. It's famous for steaks."

At that moment, Lois hears the clack of high-heels walking in the hallway, approaching her current location. She freezes only for a moment, then proceeds to spin around, searching for a hiding spot. Someone is coming. And Lois can't be seen here.

"_Try the bar's name as a password. With the professor's age at the end. I'll look it up for you - hold on…"_

"Someone's coming, Bruce," she tells him as she drops to her knees. "I'll call you back."

After hanging up, she slides into the only place she can - the area directly under the desk, where Vale's legs would normally go, if he were sitting in his chair. The space is cramped, and if anyone looks downwards, they'll be sure to see her. But it will have to do for now.

Then, sure enough, she hears someone fiddling with the lock outside. It seems like this person, whoever they may be, has a key.

The professor, maybe? But why did she hear high heels?

The door is thrown open, but Lois cannot see who enters. She can only see shadows dancing along the walls. But she _does_ hear the door shut quickly behind this interloper, and the brisk click of those shoes as he or she approaches the desk.

Lois quietly slides further into the desk, praying that she will not be seen. The prayer might be in vain. After all, it would only take one decent look downwards to discover her presence, this hiding spot is so inadequate.

The person comes to stand in front of the chair, facing the computer that Lois was previously trying to hack into. It is then that she glances upwards, and sees the person's identity.

It is _Lex's_ assistant - the woman with the dyed black hair. Lois has never seen her this close-up before, and is stricken by just how severe her features seem. Her features are contorted by anger, though there is no obvious cause for such strong emotion. And her shoulders are stiff - tense - like those of someone ready for a fight.

Lois's watches as the assistant types into the computer keyboard. With close observation, she can see the general location of the keys she presses. It's still a bit difficult to tell, however, considering that she is below the desk and looking upwards.

Meanwhile, Lois also holds her breath, afraid that one wrong move will lead to her discovery.

The assistant appears to have successfully logged onto the computer. Now, she takes a USB drive out of her purse, and attaches it to one of the port. She only leaves it there for only a few seconds before she removes it, logs back off the computer, and returns to the center of the room.

She does not leave yet, though. In fact, she appears to be calling someone on a cell phone. Her voice, for some reason, sounds eerily familiar to Lois, but she finds herself unable to place it.

"I have the new list of volunteers," the woman says. "And the professor's updated research on the designs. He's…" Does she sigh with what seems like...despair? But this sounds like it would be good news to Lex, not bad. So why is she so upset to report these things to her boss?

Gulping audibly, the woman continues: "...further along than we anticipated. We might be able to move forward with another test. And then… the plan in general. But I think more testing might be smart, instead of rushing ahead."

A pause. "Yes, I know that you don't pay me to think anymore. And I'm grateful, Mr. Luthor, I really am. It's just that I don't-"

Lex must say something quite convincing over the line, because she stops protesting entirely, though her voice continues to tremble. "I understand. I'm heading over there now."

With that, she walks out of the room, locking the door behind her while the sound of her heels seems to retreat.

Lois, meanwhile, jumps out from under her hiding spot, determined to follow her. She runs out of the room, leaving it unlocked, but only makes it outside in time to see a sleek black car speeding away. As it departs, she can distinguish its license plate - WEK-203. Nothing remarkable about it, except for the woman driving the car that is labeled with the code.

Lunch time is almost over, Lois realizes, which means more students will be arriving soon. So she walks back into the building and the professor's open office. This time, when she goes to the computer, she can more-or-less guess the password based on Bruce's help and the woman's typing pattern.

_Lac_eys63, she inputs, and sure enough, the computer unlocks.

From there, Lois reconnects the computer to the internet and copies any recently accessed files into an email that she addresses to herself. She doesn't really have time to look them over, so she sends them, then deletes any internet or email history. A few minutes later, she is returning everything to its proper place in the office, and leaving the place behind.

As she exits, a voice stops her, saying: "Excuse me, Miss? You're not a student."

Lois turns to see another professor standing at the opened door of a nearby classroom. His hair, wherever it is not balding, is a dull sort of brown, and his suit is far too tight for his size - which might cross a bit into the "overweight" category. The features he wears are skeptical and impatient, like this is the last thing he wants to deal with.

_Dammit_, she thinks. _Busted._

"What are you doing here? This building is supposed to be secure-" he begins.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she interrupts in her most convincing _desperation_ voice. "But I'm in a bit of predicament. You see, my friend's wife… I think she's cheating on him. I keep seeing her come to this campus to visit Dr. Vale. And I had just had to know...for his sake… he's been so upset…"

Lois hates lying to him, but she is out of options. And if she has to tell a lie to stop _illegal human experiments_, so be it.

Lois proceeds to describe Lex's assistant in depth, though she figures that this other professor will stop her immediately and toss her out of the building. But he doesn't. Instead, his features soften, and he introduces himself as Professor Joelberg. It is not long before he is recounting his own empathetic story of his unfaithful wife, who cheated on him last year.

Lois begins to see an opportunity. An unreliable opportunity, given the low success rates of random eyewitnesses for people as discreet as Lex's employees, but she takes the opportunity all the same.

"If you could just keep an eye out for her, so I could know for sure…" Lois requests tentatively, trailing off to maintain her overly emotional facade. But if this Professor works in an office so close to Vale, then she might gain from this arrangement.

The man nods fiercely, much to her surprise. "Sure. Do you have a way for me to contact you?"

She gives him her phone number, and he promises to call her if he sees the woman again. A few minutes later, she is departing the building, thinking about how lucky she is as he wishes her nonexistent 'friend' luck in his future romantic endeavors.

As she walks back outside, toward where she can hail a taxi, she calls Bruce back.

"_Are you alright?"_ he immediately asks. "_You hung up on me. I thought someone had roped you into trouble."_

"Roped me in? I bring trouble _with_ me. The interruption ended up working in my favor, though. You were right about the password too. It was Laceys63. I take it that the professor is-"

"_63 years old. Yes. People are incredibly predictable when it comes to passwords, Lois. You have no idea. It's no wonder that so many hackers make a fine living."_

"I'm gonna head back to the Planet," she tells him, about to hang up again. "Thanks for your help. I'll give you an update as soon as I can."

**_TBC..._**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I was speeding through the third book... but then i reached some fight scenes that are really difficult to write so i've stagnated. MOTIVATE ME PEOPLE. **

**that's all for now! hope you enjoyed! please review!**


	56. Chapter Twenty-Two - Spill

_CHAPTER__ TWENTY-TWO - SPILL_

After lunch, Clark returns to the Daily Planet, feeling frustrated. His talk with Vale yielded nothing of interest. Vale seems to be a master of deflection, since every attempt at probing his research was redirected to some other, marginally related topic. But something is _definitely _wrong in terms of Vale's guilt, though. Every time a slight reference was made to experiments, Clark could detect a raise in the other man's heartbeat, and sweat forming on his skin. Vale, despite how nice he seems, is certainly not innocent. He's doing something wrong - Clark will just have to figure out a way to prove it.

He considers following Vale as Superman, and then taking photos discreetly while in disguise. As long as he maintains discretion, he can always claim that he was following as Clark Kent when he publishes the story.

As Clark exits the DP's elevator, he sees Jimmy Olsen - clad in slacks, a dress shirt, and a bowtie - walking past while fiddling with his camera. His curly red hair sticks upwards in its signature fashion, and his freckled nose is scrunched up in concentration.

"Hey, Jim," Clark greets with a small wave.

Jimmy glances upwards, but upon seeing him, his features align into something rather resentful.

"Hello, Clark," Jimmy replies, his voice toneless. He lets his camera drop and hang around his neck.

Clearing his throat and trying to mend whatever bridge was burned between them, Clark asks: "How have you been?"

"Fine."

"Anything new?"

"Nothing you need to know about."

Clark exhales hugely. He is aware of why Jimmy is acting in this manner. Jimmy is best friends with Lois, and when he discovered that Clark had broken up with her, he was most certainly not happy. Clark figures that Jimmy would not have cared as much if the break-up decision was mutually made, but because Lois was clearly unhappy for several weeks after their separation, and could provide no legitimate reason for the break-up, Jimmy began acting bitterly toward Clark. And sure, he and Jimmy were friends, but Jimmy has known Lois for longer, and for that reason, he is prepared to side with her on everything.

"You're still mad at me, huh?"

Jimmy's cold expression wavers a bit, which Clark takes as an indication that the negative emotions have faded _slightly_ with time. But for now, they are still dominant.

"I owe Lois my job, my reputation, and uh, well…" He rubs the nape of his neck. "Some money too. But the point is, she's the best lady in the world. And she doesn't deserve to have her emotions toyed with. And I don't know if I want to be friends with someone who does that."

"I never toyed with her emotions."

"How can you say that? You _moved in_ with her. She was ready to bet it all on you, Clark, before you snuffed it all out. I mean, Lois may have dated a lot of people, Clark, but she has never told anyone that she loved them when it wasn't true. And if her reaction to the break-up showed anything, it's that she meant it. While it doesn't seem like you did."

The words could not be more painful than a knife made of kryptonite. Jimmy can't know - can't understand - the choice he was forced to make. He loved, and still loves, Lois Lane. He can feel that love prickling his skin every time he is near her, feel it pounding in his head every time he detects the sound of her heartbeat.

But he is trying to protect her. And it's _working_, no matter how much it hurts him. He wants her to live a long, full, happy life. And if that means he can't be in that life… he supposes it's better than not having her around at all.

"I meant it, Jimmy. I really did. I just - I had some personal things. Things I didn't want her to deal with."

"I know Lois, Clark. And she can deal with almost anything thrown her way. She'll even get over what you did to her. But that doesn't mean that I should be _okay_ with what you did."

Clark sighs yet again. And just as he is about to resume speaking, the elevator doors reopen with a ding, and a voice yells, "Clark Kent! We need to talk!"

He spins around, already aware of the speaker. Lois is standing in front of the elevator, her fists clenched and her face livid. Gulping, he points tentatively to himself, as if he is confirming that she is truly talking to him.

With exasperation and rolled eyes, she groans, "Yes, you. Who else in this building is named _Clark Kent_?"

He knows what this is about too. And he's not sure he wants to face her wrath about it.

"I'm...uh...pretty busy right now, Lois. Maybe another time."

"Um, how about _no_? We're talking right now!" she continues to yell, her finger pointing at her wrist to emphasize the time of which she speaks. But then she glances around and sees that the entire floor has gone silent. Every Planet employee is frozen and staring at them with interest, their attentions enthralled by the drama of these two former lovers who now appear to hate one another.

Clark fights a blush. He hates receiving this much attention. He hates this sort of _negative_ attention even more. It only furthers the impression that he is some sort of heartbreaker, when in reality, he is nothing of the sort. However much he broke Lois's heart, his heart shattered into even finer pieces. Pieces like sand, or dust.

Lois clears her throat and composes herself. Her voice is far quieter, though still harsh, when she speaks.

"Let's go into the break room. Okay?"

Clark nods reluctantly, and when she begins to walk off, he follows her.

Thankfully, it is empty, so they have been awarded some privacy. But he is sure that her co-workers will attempt to eavesdrop from behind the closed door. Luckily, Lois seems to get on top of things. Just before they entirely shut themselves inside, Lois calls Jimmy over and orders him to make sure that nobody listens to them from outside.

After that, she pulls the door shut, leaving them alone.

Lois spins around forcefully and proceeds to approach him intimidatingly. "What _the hell_ do you think you're doing? Are you _trying_ to sabotage me?"

She is referring to the lie he told her. Or..._somewhat_ lie. He was supposed to ensure that the door to Vale's office was unlocked, but he didn't. He didn't want Lois to break in like that - despite what she thinks, that _is_ a serious crime, and he couldn't bear the thought of her getting caught and sent to jail. So Clark actually waited for Vale to lock his door before approaching him.

The decision to leave the door locked was split-second - rash. He knew that she was dead-set on getting into Vale's office, and would never listen to any arguments that urged otherwise. So, without thinking the matter through very much, he pretended that he succeeded, told her the signal she was waiting for, and hoped that she would simply give up upon discovering that he had made some mistake. No harm, no foul. A simple mix up.

But he drastically underestimated something important - Lois Lane's determination. And that determination makes her _angry_ when she hits roadblocks.

He could lie to her again now. Tell her that he sincerely thought it was unlocked, but made an error.

But then again… he has already lied to her so much.

"I'm sorry," he begins, already apologizing. "I shouldn't have called you inside, but I didn't want to disappoint you. It's just….I didn't want to distract him the way you wanted. I mean, it's one thing to interview a person, Lois, but breaking into their office-"

"Since when is it _your_ right to call the shots on my life?" Lois demands. "I told you what I wanted to do. If you didn't want to be part of it, fine. But this dumbass _manipulation_ from the sidelines, pretending that you _didn't_ try to stop me, and the hypocritical lecturing - _that_ I don't need."

"I told you - I'm sorry. But there are other ways to get the information you're looking for."

"What? You thought I just would just turn around after discovering that you were playing me for a fool? No way. I lock-picked my way inside. And I got what I needed."

"You _picked_ his lock? Lois, what the-"

"God, the _hypocrisy_. It's not like you haven't done the same thing. Remember when you broke into Lex's office?"

"He called me there, and then I claimed I broke in! This is totally different. _You_ were straight-up trespassing!"

"Then that's my goddamn choice, Clark. How you deal with it is your problem. Because I'm _not_ \- I'm not _your_ problem anymore. Sorry if I'm not as _good_ as you hoped as I was, but I guess not everyone can live up to your standards."

Clark winces at that - she must still be incorrectly convinced that he broke up with her because of some flaw on her part.

"Lois… this isn't about my 'standards.' I just don't want you to get into trouble. Or to get hurt."

She grabs her head and runs her fingers rapidly through her hair, like she cannot believe what she is hearing.

"_Clark_. I am _not_! _Your_! _Problem_!" she yells, jabbing her finger toward his chest to compound each word. Her eyebrows are lowered so much that her eyes appear to be furious shadows. Her heart is beating fast - a result of anger, no doubt.

"No," he says quietly after a few seconds. "You're _not_ my problem."

"Good!" she exclaims. "I'm working on this story on my own, from now on. Tell Perry whatever you want - I don't care. But-"

"Let me finish, please," he interrupts, and Lois glares daggers at him. But she lets him continue nonetheless. "I said you're not my problem, Lois. But... you will always have my _concern_, whether you want it or not. I'm not _trying_ to project my morals on you. I think you did the right thing, even if I don't agree with your methods. I just… I don't want anything to happen to you, and I especially don't want to be the one _responsible_ for something bad happening to you."

And now, he flashes back to earlier, when she had stopped him from entering the science building. Her skin was inches from his own, and her lips - god, he was going to break his promise to himself. He was going to break down and kiss her. And that made him afraid. Being away from her - it's like every longing has been magnified a hundredfold. Like every word out of her mouth is a new wound in his head and his heart.

She was the person who understood him more than anyone - who made him feel safe in his own skin. She acclimated him to the feeling of absolute _rightness_. And now, her absence has dizzied and disoriented him with inexplicable wrongness. He can't stop it, and he can't change it. All he can do is try to bury it with distance, but even _that_ hasn't been very effective of late.

Her expression softens, and her eyes become downcast as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her slacks. When she speaks, her voice is nearly a whisper.

"You said you didn't want to be a part of my life anymore. But how can that be true if you're so dead-set on keeping me, above all others, out of trouble? I'm not the only person who picks locks in this city, you know. _Superman_ can't give me special attention if he made _Clark Kent_ leave me behind."

He doesn't have an answer to her question. Because in reality, he _desperately_ wants to be part of her life. That desperation is what causes his ears to seek out her heartbeat in the middle of a patrol, or during any other quiet moment. Conversely, it's also why works so hard to keep her _out_ of his head. Sometimes he has to force himself to block out all sounds of her - just to maintain his own sanity.

Sighing in exasperation, she looks up at him tentatively, her eyes peeking out from under lowered lids.

"Listen… I was just… being dumb… overreacting. I should have realized that you weren't comfortable with breaking into his office, and it was wrong of me to just _expect_ that you would do it."

He shakes his head. She doesn't deserve any blame for this… and again, he is flattered by her willingness to admit that she may be wrong.

"No," he says. "I should have helped you. What we're trying to accomplish outweighs the bending of that minor law. Sometimes my nervousness gets out of control-"

"But still… if it made you uncomfortable… I shouldn't have…" She trails off, but then begins to chuckle bitterly. "If I'm being honest? What that was, just now…" Another bitter chuckle. "it was me searching for a reason to get angry at you. And when I finally had one, I just…uh...I _latched_ onto it. Because disliking you would make my life so much easier, y'know?"

"I understand," he replies solemnly, more knowing than she could possibly understand.

"It really sucks," she tells him bluntly as she grasps her own forearms self-consciously. "Having an ex-boyfriend who still cares so goddamn much about you, but not in the ways you... uh ...once wanted."

_You don't know_, Clark thinks internally, with guilt stabbing at his insides. _You can't know how much I care. _The words to express how he feels are fighting him, trying to push their way out of him. And he can't handle it. What can he do to fix this situation? What can he _do_?

He needs more distance. As much as possible. Being around her like this is too tortuous, a slow and painful destruction of his soul.

They stand in silence for several minutes. And in that time, Clark makes a decision.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna look for a job somewhere else," he tells her. "You're right. We shouldn't work together. It's not healthy for either of us-"

"Wha...What?" Lois stammers. "You're gonna leave the Planet?"

More silence. But this time, it indicates confirmation.

"You're going to leave the Planet, because of _me_? No. _No way_. This is your life, Clark. This is your job - and you love it."

"I know that," he protests. "But this change...might be better for us both. I've made myself a good reputation as a reporter. I can get a nice job somewhere else, like Star City or-"

"But Superman operates in Metropolis."

"I can fly back whenever I need to. I already fly to and from the fortress every day. It's not a big deal."

Of course, it _is_ a big deal. It means that he stops seeing her entirely, even in passing. For better or for worse. Emotionally, for the worse. Physically, for her, it will be for the better.

But Lois refuses to take any of this, for some reason. "And living in the fortress is _bullshit_ too! You're a person. You need a job that you care about. You need constancy. You need people that give a damn about you!"

A selfish part of Clark thinks she is a right. But the selfless part, the one that he trusts more, says otherwise. Says that the things she claims he needs, in reality, make him ineffective and invariably endanger the people in his life.

He doesn't know what to do. There are so many things that he wants, and so many things that should want more.

"Do you remember that time Lex sent that guy to threaten you? After Superman's first appearance in Metropolis?" Lois asks offhandedly.

Clark, nods, remembering all too well. The way she stood up for him, even though she barely knew him, took his breath away even then.

"Then you probably remember telling me that you and Lana, after your break-up, were still friends, even though you two wanted different things." She looks at him directly, her eyes piercing into his own. "So why can't we be that? Why can't we be friends? If we can't find reasons to hate each other, then we have to make _something_ of ourselves. Something other than people we once knew."

The idea is so enticing.. and yet...so unattainable. He would never be able to just "be friends" with Lois Lane. Because the truth is, he and Lois never wanted _different things, _like he and Lana did. Their only difference in priorities is that he wanted Lois safe at all costs. And while his relationship with Lana fell apart naturally, his relationship with Lois never did.

So now he and Lois are like magnets, pulled apart against nature's plan, and still attracting one another.

"I don't know what exactly we are anymore, Clark. But I don't want you out of my life entirely," she tells him quietly, like the words are something from the softer parts of her soul.

He is about to respond… when the door swings open, revealing Jimmy.

"Um...Lois…" he says. "There's someone here to see you. I brought them to your office, but you were taking a long time, and they've been waiting a while…"

Lois nods briskly, her eyes trained on Jimmy. "Right. Okay. I'll, uh, go see who it is."

With that, she follows Jimmy out of the room, leaving Clark alone. There is a remarkably bitter taste in his mouth - so acrid that it is almost painful.

After that plea from her... he doesn't think he can leave. Not yet, anyway. But working so closely on a story with her like this... that he cannot handle. That will surely ruin him. Thus, he will leave Vale to in her capable hands, and he will try to distract himself with other matters.

Distraction - that is what he needs the most. But his attention is always determined to return to _her._

* * *

For the last ten minutes, ever since the red-headed photographer led him inside, Bruce Wayne has been examining Lois Lane's office. Methodically, he has attended to the personal items first. The memorabilia. The pictures.

They are framed news articles more than pictures, really. First printings. Newspaper clippings in crystal clear glass, unmarked by streaks or dust. Somebody cleans them regularly, if not daily. But judging by smell and sight, there are no cleaning products in the room. Lois is not the one who cleans them.

In fact, the rest of the room is quite messy - filled with piles of disorganized files and empty food containers and little post-it notes from Lois to herself. A glance at the notes reveals that her handwriting is messy but constant, like someone who knows how to write properly, but whose thoughts outspeed their hands.

The janitorial staff must be under specific orders to _only_ clean the framed clippings, and leave everything else untouched. It's the sort of odd request that only _Lois Lane_ would make. But he supposes that it makes sense - if someone disturbs her work, it could disrupt her investigative train of thought, or misplace a crucial note on a vital document.

Bruce might even admire how she can find leads with nothing but papers, phone calls, and internet files. He, on the other hand, utilizes fancy gadgets in addition to pure brain power, and they certainly act as advantages.

His attention returns to the frames. There are spots in the wall with nails that seem to have once held pictures, but those pictures are gone now. Were they her framed Pulitzers, perhaps? Or maybe evidence of this past relationship she just ended? He thinks the latter.

Continuing to look, he spots a picture from the Pulitzer luncheon almost two years ago. He accompanied Vicki there, and now he remembers how...odd she looked that day. Lois's expression is normally impatient or snarkily amused - because those are her most constant emotional states. At last year's luncheon, however, she had an almost manic grin on her face, like she couldn't have been happier if she tried. Prior to that moment, he had never seen her look that way.

The luncheon pictures and a sparse pair of photos featuring Lucy Lane, Lois's sister, are the only other personal images in the room.

"God dammit, Bruce...What are you doing here?" Lois hisses suddenly, throwing open the door to the office.

He immediately assumes an air of nonchalant playfulness. They have a lot of lies to pull off, but he'll start with a degree of honesty.

"I wanted to see you," he tells her honestly as he continues to pace around her desk, though he does not reveal the reasons _why_ he wants to see her. Not yet. "Hear about your day."

As he walks, Bruce leans down to spin a tiny, model Daily Planet globe that is placed on the tabletop. The replica is worn, like she too spins it in moments of distraction. The caps of all her pens are bitten and bent too - evidence of several bad habits that are characteristic of hard thinkers, he supposes.

Meanwhile, she looks at him like he has lost his mind, her eyes narrowed and her mouth ajar. "I told you I'd talk to you later! You had no right to barge into my workplace like-"

He cracks a small smirk that he knows she sees right through. Then, from the inside of his jacket, he produces a bright red rose.

A glance at the rose. A glance at him. Then, like it is the funniest joke in the world, she throws back her head and laughs derisively.

"A _rose_? _Really_?"

"Wow. You are _quite _the investigative reporter, Lois Lane. It is, indeed, a rose," he remarks with sarcasm so dark that it borders on humorless. "Besides, what's wrong with a rose?"

Her glare on him is burning, though it is not truly hateful. Just apprehensive. Suspicious of his intentions, and rightfully so. But there is also a degree of resignation in her eyes, like she knows that _he_ is her only option for taking down Lex at the moment. So it seems that her initial hatred for him has been abandoned.

"There's nothing wrong with the goddamn flower," she tells him impatiently, "I just don't want one from you."

"Why not?"

"Because we are _not_ doing that thing that you suggested. That shallow thing."

So she has more-or-less figured out why he is here - that he intends to establish the pretense that he and Lois are romantically involved. That way, Lex will be less suspicious of his meetings with her, and continue illegally developing the prosthetics in Metropolis (until he is stopped, that is).

Bruce resolves not tell Lois the additional reason why the fake relationship is so important. It may be his only way to discover Superman's identity without revealing his own. But he doubts she would approve of that.

"I'm sorry if you resent quality romance, Lois," Bruce continues, his tone of voice pointed, and his mind ignoring her order. "Maybe you'll change your mind when you read the card. What I wrote...It's from the heart, you know."

And thus, an additional pink card is retrieved from his jacket and tossed to her with the flower tucked inside. When her hand closes around them both, Bruce can see her eyes move upwards in the largest of eye rolls, like she cannot believe his nerve.

Then, with exasperation, she reads his writing. He can recite his own words from memory with immense ease - his memory is good enough to remember far more complex things than that. But speaking out loud, here, where security is so unreliable, would be a mistake.

As she reads, he sees her bite her lip with indecision.

"_We can't talk here. Ever. I'd bet millions that Lex has some sort of listening device or spy at the Planet. And if he doesn't have one yet, he probably will soon,"_ it reads. "_Our best way to go about this is to get our stories straight. We need a reason for our meetings in secure locations, and a relationship is our best option, regardless of your personal preference. This is bigger than us. So are you ready to start, or not?"_

Then, the postscript actually gets a smile out of her, though it is accompanied by a patronizing head shake.

"_P.S. Contrary to your belief, I dislike spending time with you as much as you hate spending time with me, if not more so. But I'll make sacrifices for the greater good."_

"Wow," she tells him finally. "You're quite the flatterer. Shakespeare would be jealous."

She has returned his sarcasm right back...in full force.

"So," he continues. "Do you like the flower better now..._sweetheart_?"

Her eye twitches, like hearing him call her 'sweetheart' is painful. But she manages to suppress the emotion enough to shrug before she says, "Roses are cliche, _babe_."

He ignores the jab, and gestures to the door with a fake smile. "Let's go get coffee. Talk about what you did today. I'm very interested in what you….reporters do for a living."

With crossed arms, she asks: "Why can't we talk about it later?"

"We can't because I'm a busy guy," he replies. But in reality, he knows it's only a matter of time before Lex finds success, and that outcome needs to prevented as soon as possible. They don't have time to dawdle.

"I'm busy too," she argues seriously. "And this isn't a good time for me, rich boy."

"If this is about your ex seeing us leave, then you shouldn't worry about it. In fact, having him see us together - that would really cement our _loving_ relationship, don't you think?"

Another gaze made of knives from Lois. "No. I _don't_ think so," she grumbles.

"But what better way is there to tell both Lex and your other ex that you've moved on to better things? To me?"

He tries to predict her reaction this time, using the tics he has observed from her. And sure enough, as he anticipates, she rolls her eyes yet again. But her fists clench also - suggesting that she desires to punch him.

"We'll walk out together. That's it," she orders. "Nothing else."

Bruce extends his hand to her. "We could try holding hands."

"Officially, we've only been together for a day. This is moving too fast."

"You and I have dated before, remember. We're starting from where we left off."

Reluctantly, Lois takes his hand, whispering, "you're a jerk." And together, they leave the office, laughing fakely to portray themselves as affectionate toward one another. They pull it off rather well, in Bruce's opinion. She is a better actress than he anticipated.

When they walk out of the office together, the entire floor of the Daily Planet stops shuffling and yelling so that it can focus singularly on Lois and Bruce, who tentatively begin strolling toward the elevator. They all know who he is - Bruce is famous, after all. And of course, they know who Lois is too, and about both of their relationships with the opposite gender. Surely, their gossip will spread across the building, if not the city. And that is what they want.

Lois and Bruce keep their gazes on each other, feigning attraction, even though Bruce can see that her pupils are normal size. There is no affection, and if he's honest, he possesses no such thing for her either. Respect, maybe. But not that sort of love.

The woman that Bruce can identify as Cat Grant is just leaving the elevator as they start to approach, and Bruce sees her give Lois two excited thumbs up. Afterward, she turns to enter what must be some sort of employee lounge.

But then a few things happen very suddenly.

Just as Cat starts to turn into this side room, someone exits it, carrying a cup of coffee. Wait, no. It's hot chocolate, judging by the smell. And the departing figure is a man - slouching but bulky, hidden under many layers of clothes. Too many. Enough to be considered a disguise, instead of a choice in fashion. More interestingly, when the man enters view, Bruce can see that Lois's eyes are immediately drawn to him above all other objects in the room. And in that moment, her pupils expand noticeably. With affection. For the man.

Could this be the ex-boyfriend of which she has spoken so fondly? In person, he seems rather unimpressive, especially compared to Lois's previous boyfriends. So maybe not.

But then again… Bruce wonders if his appearance is deceiving. The slouching...must make him seem shorter than he truly is. A hat is atop his head, and it casts shadows upon his face and the glasses covering his eyes. And he is bulky, yes, but not chunky. The illusion of him being overweight could be attributable to his layers of clothing. So really...what does this man actually look like? And why does he hide himself in this way?

He is relatively certain that this is Lois's ex-boyfriend. But could this be Superman as well?

Initially, he meant to only note this information for future investigation. To leave the building with Lois and explore further on his own. But then, as they pass by, the man sees them and freezes in place beside Cat, catalyzing a series of events that Bruce could not have anticipated.

From behind himself and Lois, Bruce hears the shattering of something ceramic, the cry of a female voice, and the gasps of several people on the floor.

The speed at which a very fearful Lois spins around is clearly indicative of loving concern, and Bruce follows suit with the motion, though at a slower pace.

Cat Grant screams, "Ow, ow, ow!" as she shakes her arms, which appear to be lightly stained with droplets of dark brown liquid. But that is hardly Bruce's concern.

The man whom they saw before is.

His gaze, though rather inscrutable, appears to be focused completely on Lois and Bruce's intertwined hands. And then… then there's the cup. The mug of ceramic material clutched within his hands is broken. Shattered into jagged, potentially lethal pieces that would normally cut anyone who attempted to hold them in the same manner. His entire suit jacket is stained with dark brown liquid - liquid so hot that it gives off visible steam. Liquid that caused Cat Grant to scream with pain.

But this man does not react to it in the least. The hot chocolate could be room temperature, for all he appears to care. Instead, he seems stunned only by the image of Bruce Wayne and Lois Lane - holding hands.

"What the hell, Clark!" Cat demands angrily, rubbing her reddening arms - a reaction to the heat of the hot chocolate. She is burned - not seriously so, thankfully, but burned nonetheless.

This man is not reacting to extreme heat. That's...unnatural. It takes discipline and advanced teachings for a normal person to learn that sort of self-control against heat and cold, especially since the human body has its predisposed instincts. It takes knowledge of ancient and obscure arts. But to Bruce - someone who _has_ spent painstaking years learning those arts - even that possibility doesn't explain why the coffee cup hasn't cut the man's - Clark, as Cat called him - hands.

This "Clark" does not remove his eyes from Lois and Bruce's hands. Cat seems to notice his lack of attention, and with indignation, she waves her hand in front of his face, yelling: "Earth to Clark! Hel-lo?"

With that, he finally turns to face her, shaking his head as if he has broken out of some sort of trance.

"What?" he asks Cat, oblivious to what has occurred.

"_What_? Like you don't know what happened! You just spilled your scalding hot drink on me, you idiot!"

Clark glances at his hands, finally seeing the shattered coffee mug in his hands, broken in what must have been a tight grip.

"I'm...I'm sorry…" he then stammers suddenly, frantically trying to use his tie to clean up the mess all over Cat. "I didn't realize that I… that I broke…"

Bruce doesn't need to see anything else. Thus, he turns to Lois, shoots her his most charismatic smirk, and inquires, "Shall we go, _sweetheart_?"

Her eyes are still trained on Clark with concern, but after a few moments, she reluctantly nods and spins around, proceeding to walk toward the elevator hand-in-hand with Bruce.

For some reason, as they leave, Bruce thinks that he can feel the man's - Clark's - eyes watching their departure. Maybe he is imagining it. But Bruce's instincts tell him otherwise, and he trusts those instincts above all else.

**_TBC..._**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I got past my writer's block a bit with those fight scenes. Hooray!**

**Nothing much else to say. Hope you enjoyed!**


	57. Chapter Twenty-Three - Fault

_CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - FAULT_

Bruce watches as Lois speaks into the phone's mouthpiece, her face contorted into a smile as fake as her flirtatious tone of voice. It's interesting, he thinks, how when people adopt false voices, their bodies follow the same manner of acting.

That is what Lois is doing right now - acting. She is trying to flirt information out of someone on the other line. Her body language tells all, but in addition to that, it is clear that she is not trying very hard to be convincing. Her voice is far too high-pitched to be considered even _somewhat_ normal by any regular person. So clearly… the person to whom she speaks must have low, or supposedly low, intelligence. She must figure them too idiotic to know the difference between a caricature of herself, and her true self.

As they sit in the coffee shop from the other night, Bruce waits patiently for her to finish her call. She would not even explain what the conversion is about, so he supposes he will have to receive his explanation when she is finished.

"Yeah, Lenny, I'm dating again," she says tells the phone in an exaggerated voice. "I don't know for how long, though. My new boyfriend is a HUGE _drag_." She glances at Bruce during a pause, smirking. But then her teeth grit in annoyance that she is trying to suppress.

"Alright, enough questions about me and enough…" she rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue with disgust, "offers that are just _too_ _sweet_ for me to take. How about we talk about that license plate instead?" She pauses again to listen, then proceeds to pout comically. "Lenny, I'm in _such_ a rush, you have no idea. You won't get in trouble - you never do. At least, you won't get into trouble with anyone but me. And it'd be the kind of trouble you'd _like_." Another pause to listen. "It'd mean the world to me."

Like last time, she finds a pen in her purse, and proceeds to scrawl something on her napkin. She is now smiling genuinely. "No one, huh? That's pretty weird...but not unexpected."

She closes the pen. "You're the best, most handsome guy in the world, Lenny." A pause. Her eyes widen with displeasure at what seems to be an unappealing suggestion on this _Lenny's_ part. "Oh, psh, I don't know...I've got deadlines to meet, stuff to do. Maybe some other time. Buh-bye."

Her goodbye was remarkably quick, like she was desperate to hang up. Which Bruce figures she was.

"Who was that?" Bruce asks.

She raises one finger, indicating that he must wait even further. Bruce exhales sharply with exasperation, growing impatient.

Lois pulls out her phone and types quickly. After a few moments of what appears to be a search, she purses her lips and goes, "Huh."

"Huh, what? I came to talk to you for a reason. The files you received, what you saw there - I need to know all of it."

She glances up at him with irritation, probably vexed that he is questioning her normal investigative process. Her arms are soon crossed in a challenging fashion, and she leans back in her seat. "If you must know, that was a contact of mine from the Department of Motor Vehicles."

Bruce raises an eyebrow and sardonically comments, "He seemed rather friendly."

"Too friendly for comfort, actually. That's why I call him instead of seeing him in person. He doesn't really have a concept of personal space where I'm concerned."

"So you were using your feminine wiles to take advantage of that man? That's terrible," he says in toneless, mock horror.

"It's for the greater good," she shrugs. "And as for today, well… I learned more about Vale than I anticipated I would. Not only did I find files on some prosthetics… I saw Lex's assistant come into Vale's office with a _key, _meaning that she must do it regularly."

"His assistant?" Bruce repeats, recalling the strange information (or perhaps lack thereof) he has found on the dark haired woman who seems to accompany Lex everywhere.

"Yup. She took files off the computer, and after she left, I ran outside to follow her. I got there just in time to see her car pull away. The only thing I could do is memorize her plate number."

'Hence...the DMV," Bruce clarifies for himself.

"Well, I wasn't gonna call the DMV for fun, for Christ's sake. But Vale definitely has a connection to Lex, because this chick called Lex right before she left Vale's office. She talked to him about testing and volunteers… but the conversation was strange."

"How so?"

Lois hesitates, seeming pensive and confused as she tries to decipher the situation for herself. "She seemed...unhappy that Vale was making progress. She wanted them to wait, but...Lex wasn't having it. I just don't understand why she would _dislike_ the fact that they were making progress. It doesn't make sense. Lex _rewards_ progress."

Bruce narrows his eyes. "I don't know. There's clearly more to the story. But what about what we have? What did you find on the license plate?"

"More mysteries," she says as she shows him her phone. Briefly, his eyes glance over what appears to be a news article. It reads:

_LOCAL MAN KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT_

_NEW TROY - Last night, at approximately 11:36 p.m. a fatal car accident caused the death of Lexcorp employee Graham Templeton, 46, as he was travelling home from work. _

_Templeton was head of Lexcorp's data management department, and an esteemed expert in the computer science field. His death came as a major shock and blow to his wife and son. Lex Luthor, his employer, offered his direct condolences, praising Templeton as a "model employee."_

_According to reports, Templeton was turning into an intersection when another car pulled into his path. He swerved out of the way, and in his panic, drove directly into a metal pole. The impact caused him severe whiplash, killing him instantly. _

_Even though it drove away, surveillance cameras were able to identify the car that forced Graham to swerve. It is marked by the New York state license plate numbered WEK-203. Strangely, officials have discovered that the plate is not registered to an owner. Meanwhile, the vehicle itself was nondescript black as well, with no brand or other markings._

_Naturally, the Metropolis Police Department is baffled, and unable to find the driver. If anyone sees the car described in this article or possesses further information, they request that it be reported to the police immediately. _

Bruce glances up at Lois, having finished the article in a few seconds. "It was a dummy license plate? And no one looked further into it?"

"I remember reading the article when I was in Qurac, months ago. It drove me crazy, not being able to investigate it. But… I was thousands of miles away, and Clark-"

She stops short, letting her mouth snap shut, like she was about to say something too revealing.

Intrigued by Superman's involvement in all of this (if Clark truly is Superman, as today's encounter suggests), Bruce asks, "'_And Clark'_ what?"

Perhaps Bruce was too obvious with his prying into her personal business, because Lois's expression becomes guarded and suspicious. Her eyebrows furrow, and her eyes narrow. Bruce recognizes her expression because it is one that he also wears quite often, when sensitive information - like his identity - is placed in danger.

He pushes further, knowing that the more she reacts this way, the more it proves his own suspicions.

"Months ago… didn't this happen just after Mongul attacked the city?" Bruce inquires casually. "You say that you were out of the country...but did your boyfriend ever see Mongul? Or Superman for that matter?"

"Ex-boyfriend," she corrects impatiently. "And Clark doesn't report on Superman."

"Wasn't the first article published on Metropolis's _Flying Man_ written by Clark Kent?"

Lois's expression hardens further. "That was a long time ago. Aliens freak him out, to be honest."

"I bet they do," Bruce tells her with a smirk, not believing that last part in the least.

"Can we get back on-topic, _jerk_?" Lois demands. "The license plate I saw. It's Lex's _assistant's_ license plate. And it's the same license plate that was on the car that killed Graham Templeton. And you know what Graham Templeton was most renowned for? He developed the firewalls on Lexcorp's data system."

That causes Bruce to start. "He...what?"

"He was a firewall and encryption expert. Until he died, that is. And if this is Lex's assistant's license plate, then Lex must have ordered him dead. I just don't know why."

Bruce freezes, tightly clutching the edge of the table. Graham Templeton was the person in charge of Lexcorp's cybersecurity. He created the encryptions that Bruce's gadgets painstakingly overcame to retrieve Lex's files on the stolen prosthetics… and the in-depth profile of Superman's powers. The S-examinations.

Those files notified Bruce of a lot of disturbing things. First, that Lex intended to turn the prosthetics designs into a super-soldier program by physically integrating the technology into people's bodies. And second, that Lex Luthor is obsessed with Superman. Or more accurately, obsessed with Superman's weaknesses. His files on those weaknesses are quite extensive.

Bruce was able to deduce from the files that Lex, in one way or another, planned to kill Superman. But he was not aware of whether he planned to do so through kryptonite - a rare element that only Lex seems to possess, according to his files - or through some other method. He was only certain that Lex had plans for Superman, even after death. Plans that involved cloning, or worse. And Bruce could not imagine a future more horrifying than a world filled with brainwashed Supermen, controlled by tyrants. He resolved to prevent that outcome, which is why he has left Gotham to deal with this crisis.

But if Graham Templeton was employed at the time that Bruce breached Lex's security...then Lex killed Graham...because of him. Because Graham's firewalls were not good enough. The death of this man - this father, this husband - was Bruce's fault, because he did something without examining potential consequences.

He was responsible for the murder. Indirectly or not, he was responsible. And now a little boy has lost a parent, and will forever wonder why it occurred, or how it could have been prevented.

How different is he from a trigger-happy mugger carrying a gun in an alleyway?

A hollow coldness seems to envelop Bruce as he returns Lois's stare. Hers is apprehensive. Bruce's is filled with quiet rage.

His voice is too dark, even to his own ears, when he speaks. "The police didn't find anything on the plate? Anything at all?"

"Nope," Lois replies after searching a bit more on her phone. "It seems like the investigation died a few days after it started, with little explanation as to how it was dropped. To me, it seems rather characteristic of a Lexcorp-funded cover-up. Money makes amnesiacs of us all..."

"Dammit. So we can't prove anything in court. And I suppose that those files you retrieved lacked any direct connection to Lexcorp?"

"Lex isn't that sloppy. With the notes on human experiments, we can indict the Professor, and maybe the assistant too given the license plate thing - but they're the small fish. Lex is the big one. We need them in order to lead back to Lex."

The gears in his mind continue to turn nonetheless, grinding resentment and rage into his brain. He could confront the assistant as Batman - make her talk - but then again… what if that causes Lex to order her death as well? He has to tread more carefully from now on. But he can't… _can't_ let Lex get away with this. And he can't let Lex, who supposedly has kryptonite at his disposal, kill Superman and profit off of his biology. He needs to be arrested. Incarcerated. Before it's too late.

"Understood. What else do you think you can find?"

"For that, I need your help, rich boy. I need someone to track the license plate and the assistant. I don't have the surveillance tech for that, but something tells me that you do," Lois comments. "Money buys a lot of stuff that reporters would otherwise kill for."

Bruce nods stiffly. "I can do that. It may not be the most legal thing in the world, but I can get access to the surveillance we need."

"So when she or her car reappears or contacts the professor, we follow them, and learn the truth about your designs."

"And then I'll make Lex pay for what he has done," Bruce growls.

Lois grants him a bittersweet smirk in response. "Get in line, pal." She pulls on the collar of her shirt, dragging to the side so he can see a scar over her shoulder. A bullet wound. "You're not the only one with stakes in this."

* * *

Clark's icy breath creates condensation on the metal's surface, and a few moments afterward, the Arctic air causes the water droplets to freeze into tiny ice crystals. Impatiently, he wipes them off, considering them an annoying interruption of his concentration. The best way to avoid them is to stop breathing entirely. It's not like he needs to breathe anyway. Breathing is a human activity, and he isn't human.

He carefully fiddles with the wiring of the robot he is currently building. Science had not been one of his interests for a while, but lately, he has been spending his personal hours exploring Kryptonian technologies. It has taken weeks of self-teaching, but he has finally adopted some of their advancements for his own, and is in the process of applying them to his own inventions.

Clark uses his heat vision to weld several wires and metal plates together. He accesses only a thin, laser-like amount of power - enough to achieve absolute precision.

The robots should be convenient, he thinks. His crystal's artificial intelligence can be transferred into their systems, and that will allow him to program their basic functions easily. The more difficult aspect of their creation will be to imbue them with human mannerisms. With them, Clark can use the robots to impersonate himself (as in, his human self) during times that Superman must attend to other manners. If people see Superman and Clark Kent in the same place, all suspicions against them will be quelled. So the benefits of having them will be great - if he can perfect them, that is.

He must somehow make the robots appear totally human, and then develop an algorithm for providing their instructions. These challenges provide a welcome distraction - so much so that he is able to block out the world temporarily.

Well, not the world in its entirety. Just the one thing that used to constitute a significant portion of his world - Lois. In idleness, he thinks about her far too often, and finds himself listening to her when he knows he _shouldn't._ She has a life without him - that is what he wanted, after all.

When he is working, it is just Clark, his thoughts, and the computer systems at the fortress, which is how his life must be. Such a life is best for those whom he might potentially endanger.

But now, as he considers the fact that this distraction is, in fact, a distraction from the thought of Lois Lane, a memory crosses his thoughts. A memory of Lois's hand clutched by that of Bruce Wayne - a notorious womanizer. Her ex-boyfriend, returned to being her boyfriend. And then, suddenly, anger overwhelms him, as hot and vibrant as an erupting volcano. Before he realizes what is occurring, his heat vision responds to his emotions, and he delivers an unintentional blast of it upon the prototype robot he was making.

Luckily, Clark has enough self-control to avoid seriously destroying anything in moments of rage such as these. But his vision still heats enough to melt the delicate wiring upon which he worked tirelessly.

"Dammit!" Clark groans. In frustration, he pulls the ruined robot away from the workstation where it was suspended, and tosses it away from himself. It clatters to the floor in a mangled heap. Then, he slumps into a nearby chair - one made of crystal, like the rest of the fortress. It is remarkably cold and uncomfortable. Like the rest of this place.

"Kal-el," the computer blares. "Your biological readings suggest you are experiencing intense stress and aggression."

He glares at the console. "Yeah, thanks. Didn't know," he responds sarcastically.

"These emotions are indicative of an unhealthy, depressive state. There are treatments-"

"Stop it!" Clark snaps. "I don't need a _computer_ telling me how I feel, or what I should do."

Resting his head in his hands, Clark releases an extensive groan, feeling like the image of those two hands is burned into the underside of his eyelids. Thus, every time he blinks, he can see it, clear as day, mocking him.

Well, so much for not thinking about Lois. Here she is, popping back into his head. Lois - who has moved on. Who is going to be happy and safe with someone else, just like Clark wanted for her.

And never has Clark felt so angry in his life.

Angry at himself, mostly, for being what and who he is. When he decided to become Superman, he never considered that he would have to tear out his own heart to assume his chosen role. He never considered that Superman and Clark Kent cannot be one and the same - not when Clark Kent's life is so fragile and vulnerable.

With discontent, he examines the fortress that has become his home over the last few months. For a long time, he occupied himself with building rooms to this place. To make it seem like a hospitable place to live. He made a bedroom for himself, having transferred a mattress here and formed a bed frame out of crystals. There is a small storage room with food, though it seems rather out of fashion in this sacred place, so he keeps it far out of sight. He doesn't really need to eat, anyway. He just needs sunlight.

And then he took some... artistic liberties. He made a special vault in which his adversaries' weapons could be stored. An additional room to keep scientific tools he made himself.

Science and creation have become his only refuge over the last few months - comforting, with its unwavering and objective logic. For years, he feared science - scientists - because of what he is, and what scientists seem inclined to do to him. So he has devoted himself to overcoming that particular fear and weakness. And as far as he can tell, he has succeeded. It is fitting too. His knowledge of Krypton has revealed that his father, Jor-El, was a renowned scientist. Thus, Clark knows that he should attempt to adopt that role as well.

But logic has abandoned him yet again, thanks to his treacherous heart. A heart that won't stop pining for a person who he should not love.

And now his robot has even been ruined. And he needed that robot. He really did.

But now that he thinks further… did he really need it? He hardly spends time as Clark Kent anymore. Just Superman. So why is he so concerned with protecting his identity? Even now, he is wearing his costume - the cape draped around his shoulders and his chest sheathed in that now-iconic S.

_Oh god_, he realizes with disgust at himself. Is he really so desperate for company, for companionship, that he resolved to _build_ his own friends? At the root of it, that's the reason, isn't it? Why else would he make robots that could imitate human mannerisms and man the fortress with him, if not to avoid this crushing, frozen loneliness?

He's better off with robots, regardless. Robots can be rebuilt. People can't.

Lois can't.

He will let her move on. He _has to_ let her move on. She has been through enough because of him. And Bruce - Bruce will be good for her (who is he kidding? Bruce Wayne is infamous for his playboy behavior! Lois deserves better).

No. No. No. Bruce will be _good_ for her, dammit. He is all the things that Clark can never be. Human. Personable. Normal. Safe. Wealthy, too, even if Lois would never be shallow enough to care.

If Bruce makes her happy, somewhere in his misery he can find it within himself to be grateful for that.

Clark can say these things all he wants, but the truth is, he will love her until the end of time. That love is buried somewhere in the deepest, most inextricable part of him. And for that reason, the rest of Clark will forever resent Bruce Wayne, and whoever else she blesses with her affections because he cannot _be_ those people.

Once you are Superman, there is no turning back. You leave the man behind for something greater. Something Super.

However awful 'Super' might be.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR COMICS OR SUPERHERO RELATED**

**A/N: So when I saw the Wonder Woman trailer I died and ascended to heaven... I am so excited I screamed for four hours straight. **

**Plus, JUSTICE LEAGUE! I AM SO HYPED!**

**This book has about... 11 chapters left. Which is a lot. And then there's book 3 which is super emotionally charged (no pun intended). I'm writing it but I'm having trouble for a really dumb reason? My last computer's keys fell off because I wrote too much lmao... so now I have a keyboard cover on my laptop to protect it, but it makes it SO DIFFICULT TO TYPE. I might just have to tear it off...**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Please read the rebirth Action Comics and Superman series - they're really good right now, and I want everyone to support them!**

**Also, I'm back at the supermah url on tumblr (with an h). Oops. I switch a lot. I'm fickle. **


	58. Chapter Twenty-Four - Maneuver

_CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - MANEUVER_

"I want everything that you have ever found on Lex Luthor," Bruce told Lois finally, after Lex's assistant seemed to disappear for weeks. Their one lead, gone. Providing them nothing. And now they feel as if they are running out of time. How long, exactly, until Lex completely figures out the prosthetics? They need to catch him, and his accomplices, before then - they need the prosthetics torn out of his hands. But as time progresses, that goal seems more and more unrealistic.

Thanks to the loudmouths at the Daily Planet, it took the global press about two days to learn about Bruce and Lois's "rekindled" relationship. Shortly thereafter, Lois and Bruce were plastered on the cover of every supermarket tabloid, and the subject of every celebrity gossip TV show. She wasn't exactly pleased when the television personalities called her the "lucky one" in the relationship, like dating Bruce is some great privilege, and that she should be honored to have the experience.

If it was her choice, she would not be "dating" him at all. And they're not dating. In fact, their time spent together has only proven to her how romantically incompatible they truly are. And those incompatibilities stem from one undeniable fact - that she and Bruce are remarkably similar in their core personality traits, and for that reason, they seem to unbalance and draw out the oddest and unhealthiest parts of each other.

Now, weeks after he first came from Gotham, it's their shared, fierce determination that keeps them awake night after night, researching alternate leads on Lex. They drink so much coffee that Lois thinks that they have broken a world record - she even learns to drink it black like he does, with no sugar or milk. Their interactions with others are laced with so much sarcasm and self-confidence that they are almost unbearable to be around - at least when they're together. With only one of them, they seem to be tolerable. But having the two in the same room? Well, in that situation, it's almost impossible for another person to escape them without being thoroughly offended.

Their emotional tendencies used to be their main disparity, but lately, Lois has become so consumed by balancing her Daily Planet work with the Lex Luthor research that her mind has become laser-like in its focus - undistracted and unimpeded by her emotional whims. Bruce and Lois's investigative hunches, when working together, are like well-oiled machines. Objective and unaffected by anger or sadness. Brimming with efficiency.

In fact, Lois has been stunned by the alacrity with which Bruce has assumed the investigative work. He seems rather gifted at it - incredibly gifted, even. He knows more than she ever gave him credit for.

Nonetheless, it has been weeks of research, and Bruce's gadgets have only detected enough evidence to justify a minor tax evasion charge against Lex. That won't be enough to make a difference. Bruce and Lois are both realistic (or perhaps cynical) enough to know that.

Bruce seemed incredibly intrigued by her old research with Clark on Kari Pope. But because she and Clark never snapped pictures of her, or discovered further information about her identity or location, that connection is still a dead-end. Even with Bruce's gadgets. But he swore to use certain "underground" connections to inquire about her, just in case there is something they missed.

Thus, they continuously look for more leads, but certain impediments lie in their way. Bruce is forced to split his time between Metropolis and Gotham. He flies back to Gotham rather often, reminding her of the importance of tending to his business. Bruce is a CEO, after all, and Lois is surprised that he is so devoted to this lawsuit/story despite his personal concerns.

They continue working in each other's absence, calling one another when they discover anything of interest. Their calls are always about the subject matter of their respective story/lawsuit. Serious. Focused.

Lois won't lie - she misses working with Clark. Bruce may be efficient beyond compare, and his mind-power may be a helpful supplement to her own, but working with Clark was… enjoyable. Their jobs together weren't just about the end result. Every moment involved in writing the story was significant and memorable. She misses meeting him coffee shops and laughing about unrelated things in the middle of their research and arguing over music choices as they lounged with laptops in each other's apartments.

Working with Bruce is just silent, bleary-eyed, coffee-filled hours in front of obscure files and advanced computers that he provides. It is lengthy phone calls and email chains. It is Lois relaying and receiving messages to and from Bruce's butler or adopted son when, for some unexplained reason, he is unable to speak with her directly. (Lois particularly enjoys when Dick Grayson, Bruce's ward, answers the phone to speak on Bruce's behalf and does a hilarious imitation of his adopted guardian).

But in cases other than those, there is hardly laughter where Bruce is concerned. Maybe there are a few mockingly deprecating comments toward one another, or several times that Lois tries and fails to make Bruce fully laugh. At the most they playfully argue about who is more exhausted at the current moment, and who really deserves the right to complain about it. Sometimes he will be so brooding and dark in his behavior that they hardly share words at all.

Having Bruce as a partner is not fun. It is satisfying, perhaps. Motivated. But not exactly fulfilling and downright lovable, like investigating with Clark was.

But she cannot work with Clark on this - Bruce made that much quite clear. This is between them only. She respects the decision, mostly because working with Clark could be quite unbearable.

Unbearable… because they used to have so much more.

* * *

The first time Bruce sees Superman, it is certainly not an ideal meeting.

Bruce's black limousine gets caught in some terrible gridlock along the Metropolis roads, the cars pressed bumper to bumper. Gothamites are certainly no strangers to traffic, but Metropolis achieves it at whole new level. It is a steaming mess of impatient commuters and lost tourists who fail to understand, or elect to ignore, basic roadway laws.

At least Gotham's poor reputation keeps travellers away. Otherwise, its roads would be as unbearable as these ones. And Bruce would, for the first time in his life, probably consider moving out of his hometown.

As he waits, Bruce sips coffee and researches on his laptop. Meanwhile, Alfred is at the front seat, his fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel in impatience. Instrumental versions of show tunes - a personal favorite genre of Alfred's, given his time as an actor - play softly through the stereo. Bruce has no preference in terms of music, so he lets Alfred take his pick.

Suddenly, Bruce hears a loud boom from outside, so his head snaps up to see the source. Some sort of armored car - abnormally armored, that is, with what look like battering rams at its front - is barreling down the road to the car's side. It crashes through the cars in its way, knocking them away like they are mere toys. Thus, it tears its way through the traffic at breakneck speeds - and Bruce's limo is directly in its path.

He heard that criminals in Metropolis operate a bit differently than the ones in Gotham - that they're more high-tech, and care less about modus operandi. But this...this is _insane_.

"Alfred!" Bruce yells after quickly assessing the situation, immediately jumping to his feet and pressing the button on Alfred's seatbelt. "We need to go!"

He then grabs Alfred by the arm, jumps toward the front seats, and pushes the old butler out the driver's door. But when he follows him outside, the traffic is so tight that there is nowhere for either of them to go. He could try climbing the cars, but he is surrounded by a van and a bus, which prove to be too high for speedy climbing. By the time he would lift both himself and Alfred on top of one, the armored car will be upon them. There's no time. _No time_.

It keeps barreling down the road, moving ever closer. At its velocity, it will certainly kill them both.

Now only a few feet away. Think, Bruce. _Think._

Certainly not the way he thought he would go. He always imagined the Joker, or maybe Ra's, or Mr. Freeze - and he never thought he would take Alfred with him. But this utterly random, senseless event? It's unbelievable.

Just as the vehicle screeches toward them - like a bullet flying through the air - something red, blue, and blurry speeds into its path. Then, like an invisible wall had appeared out of nowhere, the armored car stops in its tracks with a crashing sound, its back end flying upwards as inertia resists its change in motion. The wheels plummet back toward the ground with an explosion of noise.

Now, Bruce can see that the armored car is smoking slightly, its battering ram shape crushed like an accordion. And there is someone standing at its front, his hand upon the bumper of the vehicle.

Another blur, and the doors of the armored car are thrown open, and the people driving it are tossed out, bound with pieces of broken mufflers from nearby demolished cars. They sit on the ground, unable to move, cursing audibly.

Bruce watches all of this unfold with bewilderment until, finally, he gets a true look at this blur. At this 'someone.' But by that time, he had already deduced its identity.

Superman floats toward Bruce, Alfred, and the small crowd of fellow drivers that have gathered in the spaces between the cars stuck in traffic.

Bruce is immediately struck by how… abnormal he looks. Everything that Bruce has learned about human biology is seemingly violated by his appearance. His features are perfectly symmetrical, with no visible defects. No freckles. No scars. In fact, if his flesh did not look so real, Bruce would say that his skin is made out of plastic, it is so unnaturally without flaw.

And then the eyes - no normal eyes possess those colors. They glow like blue flame.

Only an alien could look like this. And Superman most definitely furthers this impression with the bright red cape that billows around him. Whereas Bruce wraps himself up in his own cape like an envelope of shadow, Superman's is lightly tossed over his shoulders, like a sign of nobility for a centurion.

"Is everyone alright?" Superman asks, his face expressing intense concern. He speaks to everyone nearby, like a father to his dear children. In response, some people nod or murmur softly. Others scream their gratitude and thanks to him, asking for autographs or hugs or more.

Only in _Metropolis_ would people ignore personal safety for the opportunity to meet Superman.

And it is then that Bruce fully registers that Superman saved not only his life, but Alfred's life as well. That armored vehicle would have certainly killed them both.

He is not one to scream his thanks, of course, but he is grateful.

Despite the crowd's adulation for him, Superman's body language suggests visible discomfort and confusion, like he does not understand why they react to him the way they do. His smile toward them is even a little forced - it does not reach his eyes. There is no dislike, but there is certainly a degree of unhappiness in his disposition.

So this is the person that Lex Luthor despises so much? From what does this hatred derive? Jealousy? An inability to fathom his motivations?

Bruce can understand the jealousy somewhat. After all, Bruce - who has long struggled to achieve human physical peak - would have given anything for the ability to stop that armored car, and thus, avoid all helplessness entirely.

But if this is the sort of trouble that Metropolis experiences, then Bruce is even more convinced that the city needs Superman. Maybe the whole _world_ needs Superman. He does not know him well enough to trust him, but Superman not only saved the world from Mongul, but has saved countless others beyond that. Including Bruce. Including Lois, apparently, since she seems to trust him.

And it infuriates him that Lex is petty enough to plan to kill him.

* * *

As Clark is finishing a piece on housing scams in Bakerline, he hears a knock on the door of his office at the Daily Planet.

He looks up from his computer, stunned. People rarely come to talk to him nowadays, especially since his break-up with Lois, so he can't predict who it might be.

"Come in!" he calls tentatively, a silly part of him hoping that it is Lois, and a more realistic part of him desperately wishing that it is not her, so that he avoid every temptation that she represents.

But it can't be her, he realizes. He does not hear her heartbeat on the other side. And frankly, Clark doesn't feel the need to check for the person's identity by x-raying the door. Why bother? After all, it's not like anyone can _truly_ pose a danger to Clark.

Unfortunately, he is greeted by the entrance of someone who is certainly _not_ Lois Lane. Clean suit. Bright green eyes. Smooth, bald head. It's Lex. Lex Luthor. One of the few people who, in actuality, can pose a threat to anyone - even Superman.

"You?" Clark demands. "What are y-?"

"Where's Lois?" Lex interrupts, his voice impatient. He does not even look at Clark when he speaks, like eye contact is beneath him.

Clark pauses for a moment, his muscles tense with anger. His glare at Lex is burning. Not _literally_ burning, of course, but dangerously close. The last thing Clark wants to do is talk about Lois with Lex Luthor, of all people. Dealing with the separation is hard enough without Lex's constantly condescending attitude.

"I don't know," Clark replies finally through gritted teeth. "It's not my place to know anymore. We decided that a long time ago. So get out."

"Tut, tut. Such hostility. And to think I believed that we were on better terms after our last meeting."

"Trying to protect her..._never_ made us friends. Not after everything you've done."

For some unfathomable reason, Lex takes these words as an invitation to press further in Clark's office, and he shuts the door behind himself.

Lex smirks. "You know...I've been rather busy. But I've been meaning to ask you both about your new...er..._single status_. But it's hardly 'new' anymore, is it?"

Suddenly, Clark feels something icy spreading through his chest. It embitters him to think that Lex is finding _satisfaction_ Clark and Lois's misery. But to lash out, or to say that he is unhappy, will only further this sense of satisfaction. And Clark will not allow that. So he maintains his composure, keeping his expression and voice as smooth as glass.

"She's safe. That's all I wanted. That's all that matters."

"Well, then let me congratulate you. For the first time in my life, I agree with one of your decisions."

"And why is that, Lex?" Clark challenges. "Is it because you care about her now-increased safety...or is it because you think that my absence will give you a chance with her?"

He chuckles. "I'd be lying if I did not agree to both. Except, of course, for the fact that I have far _more_ than a chance."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Clark warns resentfully. "She's moved on. With Bruce Wayne. The billionaire. That's where she probably is right now, for your information. With _him_."

Admittedly, it's a truth that Clark doesn't even want to acknowledge. And he's stunned by his own voice's coldness as he utters the word 'him.'

But Lex laughs even more heartily. "Wayne? I'm not worrying about him. He's a dimwitted pretty-boy with an oversized trust fund. I don't think there's anything substantive to their relationship."

Against his better judgement, Clark finds himself relieved by the information. He knows he shouldn't be, but soon enough, he is asking for elaboration. And why is he trusting Lex to tell him these things? If he was smart, he wouldn't. But something beyond logic is forcing him to inquire further.

"They spend most of their time in hotel rooms," Lex explains. "Which leads me to believe that-"

"How do you know _that_? Have you been spying on them?" Clark demands indignantly.

"Please. The paparazzi could tell you as much. All I'm implying is that Lois and Bruce's relationship may be less dominated by love and more by..."

Lex trails off for dramatic effect.

"...you think he's a 'booty call,'" Clark mumbles, feeling oddly sick to his stomach. And he shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't, he shouldn't, he shouldn't! What Lois does...or who Lois does… in her free time is entirely her decision and business, and he has no right to so much as _think_ about it let alone judge it.

But...it is still disheartening to think that someone else is….

_No, no, no - stop it_, he chastises himself internally. _No more thinking about Lois like that. That's not something you can bear. _

"Did she resent you?"

"What?" Clark says, his train of thought effectively (and thankfully) broken.

"Did Lois resent you? After the break-up?" Lex asks offhandedly.

Clark sighs, and the bitter word, "Probably," slips out of his mouth before he can stop it.

"What reasoning did you give her?"

"I told her that she was getting in the way of my activities as Superman."

"Rather cruel," he remarks.

Clark scrutinizes him, suddenly realizing how absolutely ridiculous this conversation is. Is he talking about his relationship problems with _Lex_? Has Clark lost his mind?

His face hardens. "I don't know what your game is, exactly, but you're not going to distract me from it."

"Distract you from what?"

"Whatever murderous, depraved thing that you're doing behind everyone's backs."

"I'm not doing anything at the current moment, in all honesty," Lex replies casually. "I've decided that a clean conscience is good for the soul."

"I don't think you've ever had one."

"Had what?"

"A conscience."

"And what about a soul?" Lex asks with almost sadistic amusement. "Do you think I have one of those?"

"And suddenly you care about my opinion?"

"I want to see how godlike, exactly, you think you are. Because the day you start judging men's souls...well… let's just say that I hope I never see it happen."

"I don't play God."

"And the tyrant never considers himself a tyrant," Lex counters, "until he is dethroned or tossed in prison or killed. People in power are never able to see their own faults."

"Interesting wisdom there, Lex. Ever try applying it to yourself?" Clark taunts.

Lex clicks his tongue. "But you see… I'm _not_ in power anymore. I haven't been since you arrived. Because what is a human king to the equivalent of a god? No, you see, I've been dethroned...humbled. But also...enlightened. Enlightened to the fact that gods are unworthy of the power they hold."

"You know nothing of humility, Lex."

Suddenly, a loud voice can be heard from outside the office, yelling, "Where the hell is Olsen? Don't tell me he's sick _again_! I need pictures for the kidnapping case!"

Though the sound is muffled by the door, there is little doubt that the person speaking is Lois Lane. Simultaneously, Lex and Clark's heads turn toward the door, as if their ears are attuned to her in particular. They notice each other's reactions, and immediately, they look at one another with a degree of shared exasperation.

"For the record," Lex continues, "I would rather her with you than Wayne. At least when she's with you - being what you are - it's somewhat understandable."

"I can't say the same," Clark replies.

Lex chuckles. "Isn't this an interesting turn of events? We have been brought closer by one sad, sad fact - we are both unloved by the woman we love. Perhaps I will make a human of you yet."

With that, Lex throws open the door and walks out of the room.

* * *

Lois can't help it. When Lex comes to speak to her, she gets nervous. If her work with Bruce has shown her anything, it's that their situation is very delicate. Thus, if Lex finds out just how thoroughly they are researching him, he will most surely cover his tracks and move his operations far out of their reach. They cannot allow that to happen. _She_ cannot allow that to happen.

That was the whole point of pretending to date Bruce. Of suffering all those rumors about the two of them in hotel rooms together.

But if Lex is requesting to meet with her now… does that mean he has discovered the truth? That he is confronting her about it? Will all of their hard work be flushed down the toilet due to their inability to maintain their facade?

She shouldn't even agree to speak with him when he approaches her in the middle of Daily Planet. She should have demanded his departure the second she saw him, for fear of revealing too much. Lois is not a good liar, especially not to Lex. Clark's easily-discovered secret identity is proof of that.

But his words piqued her curiosity too much.

"Please, Lois, just a few moments of your time," he practically begged (though he did so in a pretentious voice that hardly suggested begging at all). "Regardless of your opinion of me, I know that you'll be interested in what I have to say."

"Don't presume to know so much about me," Lois grumbled, but begrudgingly gestured for him to enter her office anyway. Just as she is about to follow him inside, Lois's peripheral vision sees Clark peeking out of his office to watch them with what looks like suspicion and confusion.

"_What does he want?_" he mouths to her once he catches her eye.

Lois shrugs and shakes her head, indicating that she has no idea. Well, maybe she has some idea, if Lex knows what she has really been up to with Bruce. But she also can't tell _Clark_ what she has been up to with Bruce so… Lois is essentially stuck with the answer she gave.

"_Be careful," _Clark mouths next, concern clear on his features. But he doesn't wait for her to respond. Instead, he goes back into his office and closes the door. She wonders if he will eavesdrop on them. Perhaps he won't because he is too courteous. Perhaps he won't because he simply doesn't care.

Lois proceeds into her office, where Lex is waiting for her.

"So what's the big deal?" she demands, crossing her arms after she closes the door behind herself. "I'm busy, Lex."

"So am I… but this is exceedingly important."

"How so?"

"Well, I'm sure you're aware that Mayor Berkowitz has now been accused of his ninth embezzling charge."

"Those charges rarely ever turn into anything, Lex," Lois points out impatiently. She can't believe that _this_ was the urgent matter he came to discuss with her. "Why are you really here?"

He smirks at her, green eyes glinting. "I think it's time our fair city had a real mayor. One who helps its citizens advance themselves, instead of stealing its money."

"You're right, Lex. But real mayors are hard to come by when crooks keep running for office. A lot of the time, _those_ are the people with the time or the money to burn, and the ego to feed. Lately we've been picking Berkowitz because he's the lesser of many evils."

"We should stop settling then."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm running for office, Lois," Lex tells her finally. "I'm going to be Metropolis's next mayor."

Lois nearly falls over. Lex...as the city's mayor? If she could think of one person who doesn't need more power, it'd be him. But now… god, if he's in control of the entirety of the City of Tomorrow… who knows what will happen? Anti-Superman laws, probably. Vast networks of arms dealers that get away with whatever they want.

No. _No._ Lois cannot let this happen.

"When did you decide this?" Lois demands.

"A few weeks ago. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't do this sooner. I built most of Metropolis - so why shouldn't I run it?"

"Because you've broken the law. Because you're responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people," Lois protests resentfully. "Mayors aren't supposed to do that."

"Weren't we just talking about Berkowitz's embezzling charges?"

"The point," Lois interjects impatiently, "is that, ideally, politicians should be good people. And you're not."

"Really?" Lex says indignantly. "I'm not good? I saved your life recently, Lois - if you haven't forgotten. And if it weren't for me, and my plan, Zod would be ruling the whole planet. That's not to mention that I saved your precious _Superman_ from years of incarceration and experimentation. What exactly do I have to do to prove that I'm _good_ to you?"

Lois stays silent. Because there's nothing. Nothing he can do to change the fact that doctors painstakingly carved into her shoulder to remove a Lexcorp bullet. Nothing he can do to go back in time and save all those innocent people in Qurac. People who died because he wanted to sell his guns for profit without examining the consequences.

Or Clark's sleepless nights - she has not forgotten those. And even now, with the patent violation and human experiments. No, he is most certainly _not_ good.

But to anger him now...to give him a vendetta against her… that would be detrimental to her work with Bruce. Lex's feelings toward Lois act as a shield - protecting her from his otherwise deadly rage. They'll need that shield to find what they need to know.

"Why are you telling me this, Lex?" she asks quietly. A subject change. Subtle. Or at least she hopes it's subtle.

"I was hoping that you would support me," he replies. "In the election, I mean."

"I'm sorry, Lex, but I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because regardless of whether you're good or not, I still don't trust you. And to me, this seems like a power play."

"It's just the mayoral position. It's not that powerful, in all truth."

"Yes, but you're always looking at the bigger picture. And I don't want to know what _you think_ the bigger picture holds for you."

"I think you'll come around," Lex says confidently, unphased by her rejection. He begins walking back toward the door, intending to leave.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because you like to believe in heroes, Lois," Lex reminds her. "And soon enough, you'll come to see me as one of those."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"I don't."

Lex departs, leaving her alone in her office. Immediately, once he is gone, Lois frantically whips out her phone and texts Bruce. Her message reads:

"_We have a huge problem."_

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING **

**A/N: I'm like? Halfway done with the third book? What am I going to do once it's done? These books have been such a part of my life for so long. **

**Anyway, I'm about to go see Suicide Squad, and I'm looking forward to it a lot. I have a Batman v Superman shirt that I'm gonna wear to show my support. **

**I also read 350 issues of action comics the other day. It was ridiculous. **

**That's all for now... See you next week! Please review! **


	59. Chapter Twenty-Five - Losing Game

_CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - LOSING GAME_

"And I thought Gotham was corrupt," Bruce remarks bitterly, holding the newspaper that announced Lex's decision to run in the upcoming city election. The title and subtitle of the article boldly read:

LEX LUTHOR FOR MAYOR?

LEXCORP CEO CHALLENGES BERKOWITZ

"Gotham _is_ corrupt," Lois reminds him, her voice almost toneless. "Just on a larger scale. In Metropolis… well, here...our corruption is concentrated in a few, very dangerous individuals."

Bruce and Lois are currently sitting in the hotel room, trying to determine how to proceed given this development. Lois is cross-legged on the pristine bedding. Bruce is situated at the desk in the corner, leaning upon the wood with his elbows.

Lex's potential attainment of the mayoral office may have thrown a wrench in their plans and their schedule. The way Bruce figures it, Lex would only run if he was confident that his reputation appears totally clean to the public. In the past, Lois and Clark Kent were the only people to ever dare to investigate Lex Luthor the CEO. But politics open brand new doors and invite the presence of new enemies. The entirety of the press and any newfound political opponents will scrutinize every action and file to which Lex has attached his name.

So Lex must be tying up loose ends in past crimes. And if he has shifted his focus to politics, then it's very possible that he has abandoned his ambitions for the prosthetics. Hence, the assistant's disappearance. And their lack of leads.

So all Bruce has, at the current moment, is a weak case for a patent violation. And that's not nearly enough to affect Lex. Chances are, Bruce will lose the lawsuit, and Lex will continue to develop the prosthetics as he pleases. Maybe not with human experiments, but through some other dangerous means. Maybe he will sell the designs to terrorists or worse.

Plus, Graham Templeton's murder still has gone unaddressed. And Bruce has sworn to bring Lex to justice for that.

"Are you sure that he is planning to see this through?" Bruce asks.

"You should have seen his face," Lois replies, her voice still flat. "He was convinced that this is the best idea he's ever had."

"But Lex already has so much power, with or without the title of mayor. What would compel him to pursue this?"

"Don't know. Lex is in eternal competition with Superman, I suppose. He probably wants as much power as humanly possible to even the scales."

"So would you say that Lex is still determined to kill Superman?" Bruce continues, remembering the extensive files that Lex possessed on the effects and potential uses of kryptonite. Would Lex still act on his vendetta against Superman in the midst of his political ascension? Would he abandon it, just as he seems to have pushed his plans for the prosthetics aside?

"Kill him? No - that would ruin his reputation. This whole city adores Superman. In fact, Lex is _jealous_ of the admiration that Superman receives."

Bruce is unconvinced. "But you don't think that jealousy would drive him to murder?"

"It would be counterproductive to his goals," Lois points out. "Lex wants to be perceived as a savior or a hero, as Superman is. But nobody will consider the person who kills Superman a hero. I certainly wouldn't."

"What about indirect murder? What if he gets someone else to do it?"

"If it was so easy, don't you think he would've done it already? Besides, why are you so convinced that Lex is trying to murder Superman?" Lois demands.

"Just a hunch," Bruce replies casually.

"No, please - If you know something that I don't, spit it out."

"I don't know anything, Lois," he says, assuming an air of annoyance. "But if _you_ know something about Lex and Superman, feel free to share."

Silence from both parties. Lois is biting her lip - an indication that she is withholding the truth. Bruce has perfected his own facial expressions enough to avoid behavior that telling.

"Lex is really dead-set on portraying himself as a hero, Bruce," she says finally. "He was convinced that even _I _would eventually see him as one. If he tries something like that… murdering Superman… man, he would _really_ have to sell his own innocence in the affair. Sell it enough that it would convince _me_. And he knows how suspicious I am of him."

"And did he appear to know about our research?"

"Not at all. He seemed totally… lighthearted. Like he had just received good news." Lois groans and rubs her temples. Her expression seems… hopeless all of a sudden. "This is a losing game, isn't it, Bruce? He's winning in every respect - and that smile on his face proves it."

"Lois, that's not-"

"We have nothing to use against him, Bruce! His assistant is gone. Vale hasn't done anything but travel to and from the college. Your patent lawsuit hardly has enough evidence to last a day in court. God knows Lex will never be tied to Qurac or any past arms deal. And now, Lex is going to gain control of the _entire_ city. He'll _win_ against Berkowitz. I know he will."

She jumps to her feet, shaking her head with furious incredulity. Soon enough, a jacket is around her shoulders and she is stalking toward the door of the hotel room.

"Where are you going?" Bruce inquires.

"Our research is worth shit until, or _if_, his assistant resurfaces," Lois tells him. "Until then, I am going out for some drinks."

"How many drinks are we talking?" Bruce asks suspiciously.

"Enough to make me forget how useless I feel."

"That's a dangerously vague amount."

"What do you care?"

"I care because we're not finished. We're _not_," he emphasizes. "This story - this lawsuit. It's going to happen. We'll get Lex on something. Eventually."

"Eventually's a long time," Lois tells him bitterly, gathering her purse. "And I'm pretty impatient when I'm sober."

"You also have terrible judgment when you're not sober, as I recall from our brief time together."

"This story is dead. And I reserve my good judgment for my good stories."

"It's not dead. And having you drunk, right now - what if you accidentally reveal the truth? About us? About our research?"

"Christ, Bruce. You're the playboy, and you're warning _me_ of the dangers of drinking?"

"I don't drink as much as people believe. I like to keep my mind clear."

"Good for you. But clarity freaking hurts," Lois retorts. "I haven't done anything for myself in days - just fruitless research. I need a break. And if you want to come with me to keep up appearances, you can. But I'm not paying for your ass."

"I thought one of our rules was that we _don't_ get drinks together?" Bruce says, raising an eyebrow.

"That was before I decided that you're not an awful person."

He is partially sardonic, partially sincere. "Wow. What a compliment. Does that make me friends with Lois Lane? I'm honored."

"Oh shut up. If you're so determined to be friends, then that means you can volunteer to pay for the taxi."

"I see… you're one of _those_ friends."

* * *

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Bruce mumbles as he sits in one of the most disgusting pubs he has ever seen in his life. There seems to be a layer of grime and algae on every surface. Every customer within the place appears to have washed in on a rogue wave, they are so dirty and disheveled. Every floorboard creaks like a capsizing ship. The ancient television in the corner is broadcasting a blurry, barely audible sports game.

And the whiskey that Lois keeps tossing down tastes even more terrible than whiskey usually does. It's robust beyond description, free of any sort of appealing flavor - almost mouth-burning. Bruce would be suspicious of poisoning if it was not for the amount that Lois has gulped down already.

He doesn't know why this place was her first choice. He could have gained them entrance into any bar they wanted, no matter how elite or fancy. But apparently, this pub, the Ace O'Clubs, has sentimental value to her. She appears to be good friends with the bartender - a heavyset, balding man that she refers to as "Bibbo."

With scrutiny, Bruce was able to deduce that there is more to this "Bibbo" than there appears to be. His hands are scarred - but not just from fishing, though there are marks from fishing hooks. There is permanent, though slight, disfigurement - like Bruce has on his own hands - that is unremarkable unless you know its source. Because marks like those come from punching things. Punching them hard, with enough precision and determination to not even feel the sting of the blows from your own fists.

Boxing, he suspects. Bibbo must be a former boxer. His weight must be muscle gone to seed.

As Bibbo pours Bruce and Lois another shot, Bruce pushes his glass away, finding the poor quality of the drink unappetizing. He is accustomed to expensive spirits. And this whiskey… Alfred would be disgusted by simply looking at it. The old butler would probably _murder himself_ before adding it to Wayne Manor's alcohol supplies.

Lois tosses down another shot like it's water and she's a marathoner. She takes a few moments to recover from it afterwards, but soon enough, she's smiling at him like everything about him is _hilarious_.

"Does the rich boy feel outta place?" she taunts, poking at her grimy, empty glass to make it turn slightly.

"I don't spend all of my time in the lap of luxury, you know," he counters, remembering all the times he has explored Gotham's sewers, or crashed into bars nearly as seedy as this one to intimidate criminals. "I just don't visit places like this for fun."

"I don't think you do anything for fun," Lois mutters. "You just brood and research and pretend to be a playboy. But you're not one. What kind of playboy can't handle a few glasses of whiskey?"

"Have you tried _this_ whiskey?" he asks with toneless exasperation. But his voice is careful, nonetheless. By now, she has noticed his act. It was inevitable, of course, but he must continue to hope that she will not put together too many pieces about him - or the Batman.

She laughs. "That's a silly question."

"You're right. You're drunk, so you must have tried it. In mass quantities. I think you've reached a normal person's limit, correct?"

"I'm not a normal person," Lois rejoins after a snort. Then, she reaches over him, toward his untouched glass. Rolling his eyes, Bruce grabs her hand to stop her.

"You shouldn't," he warns. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Did _you_ hear what I said before, Bruce?" she demands petulantly as she tears her fingers out his grip. "I want to forget all the bullshit in my life for a little while. And I'm not _that_ drunk yet…"

"One more glass might do the trick."

"Good."

"You'll pay for it in the morning."

"I didn't ask to be babysat - I said you could come to keep up appearances."

"Why don't you say that a little louder, Lois?" he hisses. "Because if you do, I won't need to be here at all. There won't be appearances left to keep."

"Don't tempt me."

He exhales. "You're acting like a child."

"And I'd say you're acting like my father, but my father never cared enough to judge my drinking habits."

"Not all fathers are around when we want them to be," Bruce comments darkly. In his head, the flash of a revolver plays like a scene of a film he has memorized. He can recall everything about the night. The coppery smell of blood. The delicate tinkle of the pearls hitting the pavement. The resonating echo of the gunshots along the walls of crime alley.

"Is that your way of telling me to suck it up?"

"No," he replies. "I don't know what I'm telling you, exactly. Maybe I'm saying that life is unfair, and we have to deal with that."

And for Bruce, it certainly is. How many times has he watched the people he loves, or desires to protect, die? How many times has he been tortured, or injured, or mentally tried beyond comprehension? Those events have been carved into his memory so permanently that he doubts alcohol could ever clear them from his thoughts. But their presence makes him who he is. Batman. The Dark Knight.

"I hate when people say that," Lois scowls. "When you point out how unfair life is, you're supposed to work to _change_ that status quo. But everyone just throws up their arms and leaves it as is."

"Says the woman drinking her problems away instead of solving them."

Lois seems unimpressed by his attempt at sardonic humor. "My problems are bit more complex than other people's. I need to find a way to keep my sanity."

"If I may say so myself, sanity can be a bit overrated."

"Please stop making jokes. You suck at them. Even when I'm drunk I know they're bad."

If only she knew that he dresses in a bat costume each night. Then she would realize that his words are hardly a joke. Bruce almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, but then again, it's not really funny, is it? He enjoys transforming himself into something monstrous and intimidating. Enjoys making the criminals in his city afraid to venture into nighttime air. Enjoys the thrill of swinging between the decayed skyscrapers.

Psychologists all over the country would _kill_ to write books on his psyche. And yet...Bruce is totally comfortable with this _drive…_ this _need_ to take Gotham's destiny into his own hands.

He knows the rest of the world is not nearly as comfortable. They would have him arrested. Incarcerated. Killed. That's why he wears the mask.

Somehow, one of the men at the bar distinguishes some sort of winning point on the television, and he cheers so loudly that Bruce nearly misses the sound of his phone ringing. Nearly. His ears ultimately catch it, however, so he pulls it out of his pocket. Glancing at Lois, he realizes that she might be too inebriated to truly listen to his conversation. But he retains a forced casualness to avoid her suspicions nonetheless.

And that casualness is indeed forced. Because the number that is calling Bruce is reserved for his family in emergency situations. Just seeing it on his screen injects adrenaline into his veins, speeding his heart and sharpening his focus - even despite the alcohol.

"Hello?" he greets.

"_We need you back in Gotham. Now,_" Dick Grayson tells him sternly.

"What's happening? I thought I made arrangements before I left," Bruce recalls, remembering the painstaking hours he spent, testing every cell in Arkham or Blackgate for weaknesses that could allow the inmates to escape, and then eliminating those weaknesses. He was sure that the prisons were secure - at least for a little while longer. That would leave Dick, who would be forced to patrol alone in Bruce's absence, a nighttime job limited to stopping mere street criminals. Which he is more than capable of handling.

"_Sure, you can keep the monsters in Gotham from getting out. But you can't keep the monsters from coming in."_

Bruce feels something in his stomach drop down to his feet. "Don't tell me-"

"_Ra's is in town, Bruce. He's planning to steal a contagion from WayneMedical. He must know that you're traveling, otherwise he would never make a move this sudden-"_

"How did you find out?"

"_I eavesdropped on one of his assassins. Ra's always underestimates me, so I don't think he knows that I know. But he's supposedly making his move tonight, which means that he is counting on you staying away. You need to come back and prove him wrong - I can't do it alone. Not against him._"

Bruce exhales sharply. Ra's Al Ghul is one of his most cunning adversaries - and if he succeeds in retrieving this so-called contagion, then the resulting death toll could be in the millions. Ra's is determined to protect the global ecosystem - which would be an otherwise noble pursuit, if it were not for his corresponding decision to protect it by drastically reducing the human population.

"_How long until you can come back?"_

Bruce glances at a watch on his wrist. "An hour, maybe. Gotham's only a state away from Metropolis."

"_I'd make it a half-hour, if I were you_."

"I'll try. Keep track of him. And tell Alfred to have my suit pressed."

The suit he refers to is not for business. It is code - code speaking of the suit that has become a part of him. The suit that allows him to become a bat.

"_Yes, father," he recalls saying as he sat in his study, staring at a bust of his father as blood oozed out of his numerous wounds. He had picked a fight with the wrong people. People he with whom he was not yet equipped to deal. During his contemplation of death, a bat had crashed through his window - straight through the glass, as if it were a sign of destiny. And that's what he took it as. Destiny. A calling._

_And thus came the words to him, like an eternal oath: "Yes father. I shall become a bat." _

In the present, Bruce hangs up the phone and immediately stands, preparing to leave.

"Somethin' wrong?" Lois slurs a bit. The alcohol is finally taking its toll.

"I have to return to Gotham for the time being," he tells her. "But I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"You didn't answer my question!" Lois protests somewhat drunkenly.

And he still doesn't. After throwing some cash on the counter for the drinks, Bruce walks out of the pub. He contacts everyone he can to make his departure ever quicker - his private jet's pilot, Alfred, the hotel. Maybe, if he really picks up the pace, he can be in Gotham in fifteen minutes.

But even then, he doesn't know if that's enough time.

* * *

Lois loses track of time. Shortly after Bruce leaves, she drinks the shot that he left behind, letting the pungent liquid travel down her throat and numb her senses. And it's nice. Not having to think for a while. She has done so much unsatisfying thinking lately. This break is deserved, even if it does not exactly feel _good._ It's just easier, is all.

But then a bar fight breaks out, and Bibbo struggles to stop it before it destroys a good portion of the Ace O'Clubs. Not wanting to get involved in the mess, or the violence, Lois decides to leave. With an uncoordinated hand, she pulls out some cash. Despite how she struggles, her mind is ultimately too sluggish to count the proper amount, so she leaves what she has handy and hopes it's enough.

Her walking is quite wobbly as she meanders back to the main road, away from the piers at Hob's Bay. To her, everything appears to be inverting and righting itself, spinning and vibrating. And her head feels like a fifty-pound weight - leaden and burdensome.

She just wants to sleep - have that heavy, empty, dreamless slumber that seemingly consumes a person. Sleep is easy. Just nothingness. Easy, easy, easy.

Walking becomes more and more difficult as she continues onwards. The pavement now seems slippery, like it is slick with tar that was not there before. But she is determined to get to the road - to hail down a taxi so she can get home and climb into her bed. God, those sheets and that comforter must be so soft, so warm...

Suddenly, lights are glaring in her eyes, blinding her.

_What is that?_ she wonders, but she cannot process the information enough to figure it out. All she knows is that it's bright and that it _hurts_. And suddenly there is a blaring sound too... deafening with its loudness. She doesn't know what the sources of these phenomena are, but they're getting closer. Bigger. Louder. They're almost upon her. Something primal and beyond consciousness speeds her heart and wills her to scream-

_TBC..._

* * *

**_DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING_**

**A/N: I know I'm late! I know, I know! I was really busy and I totally forgot! Sorry everybody!**

**In other news, I am now obsessed with the play Hamilton... I literally cannot stop playing the songs. **

**And yes, this is a cliffhanger, but the next chapter _might_ make it worth it. You'll have to see. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed. If you did, leave a favorite, follow, or a review! Thanks! **


	60. Chapter Twenty-Six - Home

_CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - HOME_

Clark flies Lois out of the way just in time to allow the car to speed by, unimpeded. It's a miracle that he is not paralyzed by the feeling of her in his arms again, of her heartbeat drumming against his own chest as he clutches her. It's an even greater miracle that he arrived in time to save her - it was her heart that notified him of trouble in the first place.

As they fly away from the road, he can see that her eyes are wide with fear, so he locates a nearby spot where he can drop her off. There is an empty pier - free of potential eavesdroppers or eyewitnesses. He certainly does not want people to suspect that Lois Lane has regained "connections" to Superman, thus making her a target again. That is why he moved so quickly that he would only appear a blur while saving her. He can't now undo what he sacrificed so much to accomplish: her safety.

Initially, he plans to drop her off and leave without a word. Speaking to her would be too painful for him. Especially now that she has moved on, while he finds himself unable to do so. Maybe he will start questioning her about Bruce, despite his better judgment. Maybe he will come across as bitter and empty - and she doesn't need to see him like that. No...it is best for him to avoid a true interaction altogether.

But once he slows down, he smells the sharp stench of alcohol - from her breath, sweating out of her pores. The scent is so strong that he can practically taste it.

It is no wonder that Lois wandered out into a high-traffic road, he realizes. She is drunk. Very much so, by the smell of it.

And if she can't even hail down a taxi in her current state, how can she be expected to return to her apartment on her own? Simply leaving her alone is no longer an option. He needs to see if she is okay.

So, as gently as he can, he floats her to the ground and sets her feet upon the wood of the pier. Her stance is unsteady without his arms around her, like she is unused to the feeling of her own legs. He wonders if he should sit her down instead.

"Lois?" Clark thus asks softly, examining her face to see if she is responsive. "Are you alright?"

For a few moments, Lois just stares at him, looking perplexed. But then, with a suddenly horrified expression, she _tears_ away from him, sprinting in a disorganized zigzag toward the edge of the pier. Clark initially is baffled by what she intends to do, and even prepares to catch her if she randomly decides to jump off the side.

Prepares to catch her...until she drops to her knees, leans over the edge, and promptly vomits into the bay. It is there that she stays for a few minutes, trying to clear the offending substance from her system as she coughs and heaves.

"Oooh God…" she moans after a while, her speech slurring. Her hands, meanwhile, clutch a nearby dock post like it is her anchor, and she is a boat about to tip over.

She seems so visibly pained and suffering that Clark instinctively moves toward her, desperately wanting to help. But as he moves, she must perceive him out of the corner of her eye. Without turning to look at him behind her, she holds up a shaking hand to indicate that he should not come any closer.

"Don't- just don't," is all she can manage to say.

"I just want to help you," he tells her earnestly. "Please."

She doesn't respond for several moments. Then, she informs him in a trembling voice, "Flyin'...too fast...made me puke…"

Guilt creeps into Clark's every vein. He should have known that she was drunk before he tried flying at that speed… he's so stupid… he never thinks - never does the right thing by her.

"Then this is my fault," he says. "And I should help you. To make up for it."

Upon reaching her, he places his hand on her shoulder. Her breath shudders in response, and she stammers: "G-gross…"

Clark pulls his hand away from her, taking this as an indication that she does not want him to touch her. Does she now hate him so much that she finds him repulsive?

"Sorry," he apologizes quietly.

"N-no. Not you. Me. I-I puked. You shouldn't-"

She gasps, and suddenly, she is throwing up into the bay again. He waits patiently for her to stop, lightly scanning her vitals with his vision to see if she needs to be brought to a hospital. From what he can tell, this is a textbook case of drunkenness. A hospital probably will not be able to help her - she just needs to get it out of her system. And he can't transport her anywhere until this passes.

Gingerly, he gathers each strand of her hair and pulls them out of her face. Her hair is much longer than it was when she returned from Qurac all those months ago. But it is still glossy, still smooth under his fingertips.

Another few minutes pass and she stops. Her eyes are streaming, and when she catches her breath again, her voice sounds hoarse and agonized.

"I'm s-so sorry."

Incredulity at her apology elicits a small smile from him. "Why on Earth are you sorry?"

Another shaky exhale. "Throwin' up. H-havin' you watch."

"I don't care about that," he replies like it is the most obvious fact in the world.

"'s gross."

"It's natural."

"N-not for you," she argues, still clutching the post. "You don't get sick."

"I know what I look like when I'm exposed to Kryptonite," he tells her softly, bringing one of the more unruly, escaped hairs away from her face yet again. "And that's not a pretty sight. Besides...you're not just sick. You're drunk."

"Don't need...a lecture…"

"I'm not going to give you one. I know you don't like that. Just...how many drinks did you have?" he asks her, wondering what amount could possibly get her into this sorry state. He has seen Lois drunk before, yes, but never so drunk that she has suffered more than tipsiness and a desire to go to bed early.

Lois holds up four fingers. But then changes it to five. And then eight.

"That much, huh?" he says, swallowing a minor laugh at her indecision. All that he can glean from her answer is that it must have been a quantity so large that even she couldn't handle it. And Lois normally handles her alcohol very well.

"Were you drinking alone?"

She shakes her head.

He sighs heavily, and then asks a question that he has been dreading. "Okay well...Were you drinking with Bruce?"

A slow nod.

_Of course_ she was drinking with Bruce. And now...now he is angry, but not at Lois. "You were drinking with Bruce...and then he left you there? To get home on your own?"

"He...had t'go," she explains vaguely. "This...my fault…"

"He should have stayed with you," Clark tells her furiously. "You could have died back there."

"My fault."

"Lois, it's not-"

"My drinks. My choice. My fault."

He exhales yet again, and when he does, he realizes that he is still holding her hair - running his hands through it - despite the fact that she no longer needs him to do so. With a blush across his features, he drops it from his grip. The strands fall back around her shoulders in their natural long and wavy state.

"How do you feel now?" he murmurs to her.

She shrugs.

"Are you ready to go home?"

Lois turns to him and stares for a few seconds, seeming perplexed. But then she grants him a small nod once again.

"I'm going to fly you home, if that's all right."

Another nod.

"Keep your eyes closed, then. I don't want you to get sick again."

With that, he delicately pries her fingers off of the wooden post. He wants her to let go, because he will steady her in its place. Thus, once she is free, he cradles her in his arms, noticing that she is mostly limp - exhausted and ill - with dried tears still staining her cheeks.

"I know you said that you don't want a lecture," he whispers to her. "But I'd really appreciate if you didn't do this again. The world needs its best reporter, right?"

_Clark_ needs her… even if he shouldn't. Even if he can never tell her such a thing again.

"Okay," she murmurs back. "Jus'...fly real slow, Clark. Please."

"Of course, Lois."

And he does. It's the first time that they have flown together - really, truly flown together - since the break-up. Unfortunately, the circumstances are not even _close_ to ideal, with Lois being drunk and probably in love with someone else. And Clark, of course, dug this grave for himself in the first place when he pushed her away. Now he is reminded of all that he felt in every moment that he ever held her close.

At the slow speed they travel, it takes them a little while to return her to the apartment. Oddly enough, when he arrives, he realizes that she still keeps the window unlocked - like she used to do when they dated. He wonders why.

"Do you want me to bring you to the bed?" he asks.

"Bathroom."

"Okay."

She takes a while to clean herself up, the door to the bathroom shut tight. In the meantime, Clark locates one of her pairs of pajamas. He remembers their location from when he used to do the laundry, and sure enough, they are in the same drawer as they were months ago. As he grabs them, he notices that her apartment is still filled with the pictures they took together.

One sits atop the dresser. The photo is amateurish and blurry - with Clark's face turned to the side as he kisses Lois on the cheek. Meanwhile, Lois is smiling, the eye closest to his lips scrunched up for effect. It was one of his favorites. It is probably one of hers too, considering that she kept it.

Shaking the thought of it out his mind, he knocks on the door of the bathroom, and slowly, she opens it to take the pajamas from him. Thirty minutes pass before she emerges again, stumbling like a zombie but evidently ready for bed.

Clark places his hands at her elbows to guide her there, and once she flops down upon the mattress, he places the blanket over her.

"You don't live here anymore," she remarks suddenly, like it is an epiphany.

It does not really sound like she is protesting his presence, but he interprets it that way regardless. "I know. I'll leave as soon as I'm sure you're okay."

"But...you called this place '_home,_'" Lois points out rather questioningly. "Why'd you do that?"

"Lois," he pleads, unwilling to admit the answer to that question to even himself. "Please go to sleep. You need it."

"Mmm...kay… G'night. Love you," she mumbles, nodding as her eyes shut from exhaustion.

For several minutes, he only sits there, stunned. She couldn't have meant that, could she? She is drunk… saying whatever comes to mind. And yet… in that case, it must have been a thought in her mind. Something she thinks about, regardless of inhibitions that tell her to do otherwise.

She loves him still? _Oh god_...He can almost feel the poisonous hope growing like a tumor in his heart, determined to destroy him.

He curses himself for not only saying the words back, but for meaning them as well. Clark hopes...and yet doesn't... that she does not remember the words they have exchanged by morning.

* * *

Bruce cannot breathe. An arm is wrapped around his neck, crushing it, while another arm is around his torso, pinning his limbs to his sides. His feet have been lifted above the ground, preventing him from getting leverage.

Time is running out - he knows that. It takes eleven pounds of constant pressure to crush a windpipe, and his attacker is applying _more_ than that, the arm muscles coiled around Bruce's neck like the body of some deadly boa constrictor.

He has mere seconds to break the hold.

In a move of desperation, Bruce tucks in his chin and swings his legs upwards, using a pendulum-like force to bring his feet crashing back toward the attacker behind him. The assassin stumbles and falls but does not release him, so Bruce allows himself to be dragged downwards, falling on top of the man. He twists his body until the arm around his torso loosens, and with this meager freedom, Bruce is able to elbow the attacker - very hard. The blow causes the man to instinctively abandon his hold on the torso, but he continues to place the same pressure upon Bruce's neck.

He is tougher than Bruce anticipated. But still not tough enough.

Bruce slams his head backward, and it crashes into either the attacker's chest or head. He doesn't know which, but either target is effective. The man can only gasp and go temporarily limp, which gives Bruce the opportunity to roll away. Bruce takes the arm that was around his neck with him as he moves and pins it behind the back of his former attacker. This leaves an opening for Bruce to knock him unconscious - and he does. The feeling of his fist against the man's jaw is oddly satisfying.

Bruce stumbles to his feet, his cape gliding along the floor until it envelops him in his upright position. His hands are already curled into fists, prepared to defend himself against any other attackers who are arrogant enough to take him on.

To the side, he sees Dick jumping and flipping over a slew of adversaries, placing well-calculated blows that achieve maximum damage. The "R" on his red, yellow, and green costume glints in the low light.

Bruce resolves to help him, and takes a step forward. He avoids stepping on the bodies of the fifteen or so assassins that he has already knocked unconscious. That last one - the one that caught him in a chokehold - was a bit more resourceful (and bigger) than the rest. But not powerful enough to take down the Batman.

He tosses several Batarangs at Dick's enemies, and that distracts them long enough for Dick to kick them in the head - knocking them out. Then Bruce runs forward, already throwing blows at the remaining assassins by the time he reaches them. They are incapacitated before long.

Dick lands on his feet with a flourish. He has always been one to show off a bit, Bruce knows. Bruce, on the other hand, favors efficiency above all else. This discrepancy in fighting styles constantly puts them at odds, causing exasperation in Bruce and resentment in Dick. But nonetheless, they work seamlessly as a team. The criminals in Gotham are right to fear them.

Dick then glances at the locked refrigerator behind them, where the contagion that Ra's wants is still located. A contagion brought to WayneTech to be eradicated. When he follows his gaze, he catches a reflection of himself and his ward in the smooth metal.

Somehow, Dick looks just as young as he did when he first donned that costume. The reds in his shirt are bright and colorful, with green pants that are equally as intense in their vibrancy. A yellow cape falls down his back as well, like a brightly colored sheet. To Bruce, his costume is, and always will be, reminiscent of an outfit that belongs in a circus. But that is fitting for Dick, of course. A circus is where their partnership was born - born out of the tragedy of losing Dick's acrobatic parents during a routine.

Similar to the contrast between their personalities, Bruce's costume differs greatly from Dick's. The boy wears a small domino mask across his eyes, while Bruce's face is mostly covered by a dark black cowl with ears that mimic those of the animal for which he named himself. It is a cowl that only shows white eyes, and nothing else, making him appear soulless. But the colors and features of his ward's outfit are bright and childlike. Dick's cape is short and bold - Bruce's is long and shadowy, like fabric torn from the essence of night itself. The only similarities appear to be the utility belts slung around their waists, which contain a variety of tools that allow them - mere mortal men - to do the work that they do. Less visible is the armor underneath the costumes that makes them less susceptible to the killing power of guns and knives.

Batman and Robin. The dynamic duo, they are sometimes called by people who unfathomably find wit in alliteration. They are one hell of a team regardless of what they are called.

"We need to get that out of here," Bruce says, as if reading Dick's mind about the contagion stored in the fridge. "Ra's will know that his assassins failed. And then he'll come for it himself-"

"An excellent deduction, Detective," a voice says from the shadows of the nearby hallway. From it emerges a man with long sideburns that curl toward his mouth and extend past his chin. A dark green and gold cloak hangs around his shoulders, partially covering a simple black suit. His hair is mostly black, but toward his ears, it changes to a stark white color to indicate his age.

On the other hand... given the fact that Ra's Al Ghul is hundreds of years old, having been kept alive by immersing himself in mystical pools called the Lazarus Pits, Bruce figures that such a small amount of white hair does not accurately represent his age in the least.

Accompanying Ra's is a rather gorgeous woman brown hair that falls toward her waist in a glossy curtain. Her eyes are an alluring green, and her figure is clad in a form-fitting black jumpsuit. Immediately upon her entrance, her eyes fixate on Bruce, and her stare would probably be returned - if not for the immediate threat that her father, Ra's, poses. So his attentions are elsewhere, even if his mind continues to wander to from the sword clutched in Ra's hand...toward her.

_Dammit, Talia, _he thinks. He should have anticipated that she was coming.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to join us, Beloved?" she asks wearily, as if she already knows the answer. And she does. But she always tries to find some way to avoid their conflicts, and he hates that he still finds that endearing. What would be more endearing, however, is if she would renounce her _eco-terrorist_ _father_.

Some things are just impossible for Bruce to push out of his mind, with or without a superb memory such as his. He cannot forget that Talia saved his life. He cannot forget the times he met her afterward, the nights they spent together in Gotham… before he knew. Knew who she was. But _she_ always knew who he was, and used that knowledge against him. That is unforgivable.

Right now, Dick and Bruce are a barrier between Ra's, Talia and the refrigerator that contains the contagion. This is where they all must make their stand.

He doesn't know how their people snuck into WayneMedical so easily. If he makes it out of this, he will have to upgrade security.

"I'm giving you both one chance," Bruce now says in a deep voice, "to turn yourselves in. But under no circumstances are you walking out of here with anything."

Though he does not take his eyes off the al Ghuls, from his peripheral vision, Bruce sees Dick crack his knuckles and smirk. "Well...that's not exactly true. You may walk out of here with some bruises and broken bones. But that's about it."

"The arrogance of children is truly intolerable," he hears Ra's mumble, shooting a glare at Dick.

"You're one to talk about arrogance," Dick retorts. From a momentary glance, he can see several beads of sweat on Dick's forehead. He is understandably nervous, and the humor allows him to diffuse the tension. After all...Dick has seen Ra's fight before. He knows that few people equal Ra's skill in battle. Whether he is worried for himself or just Bruce - the person who will inevitably have to clash with Ra's - he doesn't know. But given Dick's concern for him the past, Bruce suspects it may be the latter. Over the years, Dick has come to see Bruce as a father figure, and the thought of losing yet another father must seem unbearable to him.

Bruce is nervous for Dick's safety as well, but he does not show it so obviously. He rarely shows any emotion so obviously. Another stark difference between himself and his adopted son.

Now, a small smile forms on Ra's face. "Perhaps it is a bit hypocritical." He cranes his neck to look at the unconscious assassins at Bruce and Dick's feet. "To think I considered these fools to be some of my best men."

Dick continues almost anxiously cracking jokes, saying: "Don't be too hard on them. We're just _that_ good."

"Robin…" Bruce says warningly, urging Dick to not be distracted by his own humor. He does not like the look in Ra's eyes, and Bruce is not about to let their guard fall.

"I thought you were out of town, Beloved," Talia then remarks.

"Track me all you want. I'm always ready to return home if Gotham is in danger."

She sighs. "And I suppose that you are ready to defend the contagion with your life?"

"Yes," Bruce replies with dark certainty. "And I suppose it would be fruitless for me to again point out the flaws in your ideology?"

"You are young, Detective," Ra's says. "You are in no place to question ideology that has been centuries in the making."

The sword is brought from Ra's side to a horizontal position, its point aimed at Bruce, despite the distance between the two men. "It is shameful...how you waste your potential. And your mind...so narrow. So poisoned by obsolete morality. It pains me to have to destroy someone who could have been a great mind… and a great warrior."

"Handle Talia," Bruce whispers out of the corner of his mouth to Dick. He can see her hand lightly resting on a sheathed sword placed at her waist. She is prepared to draw it.

Then, to Ra's he says: "You and I both know that I am more than capable of defeating you in a fight, Ra's. But if you're prepared to try my skills again, I'm ready. I'll always be here to stop you - and anyone else who threatens my city."

"It will be a great honor for you, then," Ra's replies, "to die defending what you love so much."

With that, Ra's and Talia lunge forward, their blades drawn. Bruce and Dick - Batman and Robin - are prepared for the attack. They have to be.

* * *

Lois's hangover ultimately keeps her from going to work the next day - and that's saying something. Lois loves work more than anything at this point (except for maybe Clark, but that love is different and, unfortunately, absolutely hopeless). Nothing short of serious injuries or Pulitzer luncheons or death threats has ever really kept her from her desk at the Daily Planet.

But right now, her head pounds like a drum, and the light streaming in from the window bores into her eyes like a drill. More than anything, she is agonizingly thirsty and somehow nauseous, which really seem like contradictory sensations to her. But Lois is in entirely new hangover territory, considering the unprecedented amount of whiskey shots she consumed. And boy...is she regretting them.

When she finally manages to stagger out of bed toward the kitchen in the pursuit of water, she opens the fridge and is greeted by some...unexpected objects. There is a bottle of Gatorade, and next to it, a plate of what seems to be cinnamon toast. Judging by the smell, it couldn't have been made that long ago.

Lois doesn't remember stocking the fridge with Gatorade, and she certainly didn't cook herself any fancy french toast.

That's when she notices the note attached to the plate, so she pulls it out and squints at it with aching eyes.

It reads:

_I've never had a hangover, so I looked up what might help. Left these behind. Microwave to reheat the food. _

She gapes at the signature at the bottom of the little paper.

_Feel Better!_

_-Clark_

Clark was in her apartment, making food? Clark _knows_ that she drank that much?

"Oh my god," she exclaims as some vague memories of the previous night resurface. Almost getting hit by a car, Clark rescuing her, and then… throwing up. A lot. Into the bay.

And Clark was there the whole goddamn time. She was sick and gross and drunk, and he probably sat there watching her, looking perfect as always, pitying her for being so weak and human and dumb.

If someone saw them, it must have been a mighty strange sight. Superman holding the hair of a vomiting, random woman.

Is there anything more humiliating than puking repeatedly in front of your ex, she wonders? Oh right - of course there is. It's more humiliating to not only puke in front of your ex, but also be so smashed that he has to _fly you home_ and tuck you into bed. _Christ_...she will never live this down.

She wants to scream into a pillow. But even that might be too loud for her sensitive ears.

What's even more confusing is the fact that Clark took care of her so gingerly - he even left food in her refrigerator for when she woke up. It's not fair. It's not fair that he is so kind and good and that nowadays he only gets to see her when she is at her absolute worst - when she is angry or faking a relationship or drunk.

Without much else to do but dwell on what she might have said while so completely inebriated, Lois multitasks by reheating the toast. It ends up being delicious, and it makes her feel better physically, but she can't help but wonder if she admitted any embarrassing things to him. The problem with Clark is that he will always care for everything and everyone, no matter what, so she cannot even tell if she has offended or disgusted him in some way.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERMAN OR SUPERHERO RELATED**

**A/N: Okay so... this chapter was pretty fun to write, back when I made it (which was a while ago). It's very fluffy, despite the break-up circumstances. **

**Anyway, right now, I'm over halfway done with the third book and...I'm hitting writer's block again. MOTIVATE ME. **

**That's all for now! Review please! :)**


	61. Chapter Twenty-Seven - Reemergence

_CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - REEMERGENCE_

"Agh! Careful!" Bruce exclaims, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

"Master Bruce, I offered you pain medication. You declined."

"I don't want to cloud my mind with chemicals. Remember that Venom drug? We don't need a repeat event of _that_."

"That was entirely different, Master Bruce. And besides...the anesthetic's primary use would be to make _my_ job easier. Every time you flinch at the movement of the needle, I worsen your injuries," Alfred remarks with mild disdain as he continues stitching the side of Bruce's torso. The cut is long, jagged, and still bleeding slightly. He has Ra's to thank for it - and his fancy swords, which are made out of a mysterious material that can somehow slice through Bruce's armor.

Finally, Bruce can feel the sides of the gash pulled together as Alfred finishes his work.

"That should do it, Master Bruce," he says as he straightens and begins wiping his needle with rubbing alcohol. "And next time, do remember that swords belong in sheaths, not _scraping_ against your side."

Bruce shakes his head and snorts slightly, but does not commit to a smile.

They sit in the Batcave - a sprawling underground cavern filled with a contradictory mix of manmade technological marvels and natural cave formations. A small group of bats, for which this place is named, flutter around the stalactites on the ceiling. Everything is slightly illuminated by either the bright blue light of Bruce's main computer, or the harsh fluorescent bulbs that have been placed at intermittent locations around the cave.

Just then, Dick descends into the Batcave, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Like the acrobat he was raised to be, he flips over the stairs, barely touching every other step before he launches himself up yet again. He lands with feet comfortably resting on the final level.

"How is he?" Dick then asks Alfred with concern, approaching them like a normal human being might - that is to say, walking toward them. Instead of engaging in yet another acrobatics routine.

"Better than when he returned home," Alfred replies as he walks off, intending to put away the medical supplies.

Dick nods at Alfred, saying: "Good." Then he turns to Bruce, looking rather annoyed.

"You know, you freaking terrify me when you take hits like that. Do you think I enjoy dragging your bloody body back to the Batcave?"

"We stopped Ra's, didn't we?"

"And you couldn't have done that without getting nearly dismembered?"

"Ra's had to think he won. That's when he let his guard down."

"And he still got away."

"Without the contagion, at least. And besides, they only escaped because Talia dropped that smoke pellet. While _you_ were supposed to be handling her," Bruce points out impatiently.

Dick rolls his eyes. "I did my best - I thought she was incapacitated. And God knows _you_ can't stop her - you'd just end up exchanging mass quantities of saliva with her. Like you always do wherever that woman is concerned."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response to that - mostly because a part of him fears it is true. So they sit in silence for a few seconds until Dick speaks up again.

"So...are you going back to Metropolis?" he asks.

Bruce nods and grabs a shirt that Alfred placed on the nearby counter. "Yes. As soon as I can."

"Why are you so obsessed with stopping Luthor, again?"

Before Bruce can respond, Dick interrupts and throws up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry. I forgot I was talking to Bruce Wayne. I should know that it's just part of your personality to obsess over _everything_."

"Besides running illegal human experiments, Luthor is responsible for killing several people. And he plans to kill more in the near future," Bruce replies, ignoring the customary jab that Dick made.

"Superman, right? You think he's going to kill Superman?" Dick verifies. "Have you met him?"

"Who, Luthor? Yes. He's arrogant. Devilishly smart."

"No...have you met Superman?"

Dick says the words with masked eagerness, like he does not want Bruce to know just how much he values the information. But the boy's blue eyes tell all - and beyond that, the Superman t-shirt that Dick sometimes wears whenever he believes that Bruce isn't looking reveals as much.

It is not surprising that Dick is a fan of Superman. Most of the world is at this point. Every day, Superman can be seen rescuing people all over the world, working at nearly all times (except for a select few that suspiciously coincide with Daily Planet employee operating hours). A mere glance at him by criminals is enough to stop what could be gruesome gang wars. The people deeply caught in burning buildings are no longer without hope - they somehow know that Superman will rescue them.

Of course, Bruce remains skeptical of him still - of his supposed perfect reputation - even if he _is_ grateful to this "Man of Steel" for saving not only his life, but Alfred's life as well. But regardless of every suspicion, more than basic morals compel him to know that Lex's plans for murder - if they are legitimate - need to be stopped at all costs.

"Alfred and I have both seen Superman," Bruce informs Dick casually. "Under rather unfortunate circumstances, in all honesty… But if he hadn't shown up...well, let's just say that you would have received a very hefty deposit into your bank account, via my will."

Dick's expression is suddenly wiped clean of humor. "That's not even something to joke about, Bruce."

"The point is...he saved our lives. And I'm not about to let somebody destroy his."

"What was he like, though?" Dick asks, his enthusiasm returning as he practically leans forward to listen better. "Did he say anything? Do anything _out of this world_? How did he look?"

"He stopped the equivalent of a tank in a second flat, asked if everyone was well, and then proceeded to fly away. In terms of appearances, he looks no different than how he does in the pictures on your bedroom wall."

Narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms, Dick mutters, "I don't...there's just one...it's a magazine cover...a _sports_ magazine cover. It's _cool_."

"Whatever you say."

"And what about Lois?" Dick then says, strategically switching the subject. "She calls here a lot. You're not..._really_ together, are you? I mean, it'd be kinda cool, considering that Lois is pretty hilarious-"

Bruce looks horrified by the thought. Actually _dating_ Lois Lane? He cannot think of anything more strained. Their partnership is based on their mutual efficiency and similar interests. But nothing between them breeds real sparks or passions. She is unique-looking, sure - but too tempestuous, just like him - though she shows it a lot more outwardly than he does.

In all honesty, he can hardly deal with his own actions or personality on a daily basis. How could he possibly _love_ those traits in someone else? He can admire them, most definitely. But he has enough self-destructive determination to account for ten people, so adding Lois's to his own would be catastrophic for them both. Every argument would be disastrous. Every annoyance would be evidence of hypocrisy. Indeed, they are better served in their relationship by engaging in intellectual activities, such as their investigations.

"We're _definitely_ not together," he protests. "Lois is a friend - and I mean that sincerely. Being with her would be like dating myself - except with a lot more yelling and bad sarcasm."

"You're just jealous because she's funnier than you."

"I don't try to be funny."

"Which is exactly why she's _also_ cooler than you."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "Regardless - I've been automatically scanning security cameras throughout Metropolis for the license plate we have been looking for. Alfred just informed me that after weeks of waiting, we finally got a notification of a sighting. _Unfortunately, _it happened while I was fighting Ra's, so I wasn't able to immediately respond. But I was still able to locate where the car _came from_ using Metropolis's wide network of cameras. I'll need to investigate-"

"_Bruce Wayne_ does not conduct investigations, and I thought you said that the Batman will not appear in Metropolis," Alfred interrupts, returning from putting away the first aid kid. "What happened to it being 'too risky' for your identity?"

"If Superman hasn't noticed what Luthor has been doing, then I doubt he will notice me if I act discreetly. Time is running out. It won't be long until Luthor figures out how to use the prosthetics, or worse - figures out a plan to kill Superman. Acting as Batman...investigating...is the only way to still accomplish my goals while barely managing to conceal my identity."

Dick looks skeptical. "And what about Lois? I thought she was invested in this too."

"She is. When the time comes, I'll need her help to not only piece together a case that will place Luthor in prison, but to also sway the public opinion against him. Otherwise, he'll never get indicted. She's too valuable to be involved in the actual fighting. And now that I know where that car travels regularly, it should be a simple matter of finding the evidence we need in the places where it goes. She'll be the one to put it all together in the end. After all...I owe her that much."

* * *

The next night, Bruce is back in Metropolis. No one knows that except Alfred and Dick - not even Lois. As far as everyone can figure, Bruce Wayne is currently at home in his Gotham mansion. That way, if the Batman happens to be spotted in Metropolis, people will be less likely to connect his two identities.

The city's cameras showed that the woman's sedan traveled to one location more than any other - a warehouse in Suicide Slums. One that, he soon discovers via city files, is used for storage, and is owned by some obscure sub-division of Lexcorp. In fact, the official ownership of the building involves a lot of redirection to a variety of organizations, but ultimately, he is relatively sure that it is Lex's in its entirety. So that is where Bruce goes, clad in his Batman costume, to explore what exactly Lex is creating with those prosthetics.

He intends to snoop around without being detected - while no one is there. The less he is seen, the less likely it will be that Superman takes notice of him, and uses those famous super-senses to discover that it is Bruce Wayne under the mask (not that he hasn't taken precautions). But discretion is key, and for that reason, he travels to the warehouse only when the cameras show the sedan as being on the way to Lexcorp, long gone.

He has no idea why Lex's assistant had disappeared for so long - or why she decided to reemerge now, of all times. But he can't afford to focus on that… not when his opportunity for investigation is so ephemeral.

The warehouse is in a relatively empty lot in Suicide Slums, so he is unable to swing onto the roof for quiet access. Initially, he intends to break into a window using a laser and reseal the glass upon his exit. His gadgets do have their benefits, after all.

But he is soon surprised by the fact that the warehouse has no windows - and if there were once openings for some, they have all been boarded up with metal sheets.

This development is unexpected - the specs for the building indicated that there was a window to a janitor's closet that he could enter without being noticed. But clearly, Lex took intense precautions against intrusions.

Bruce would bet his savings that those metal sheets are made of lead - a substance through which, according to Lex's files, Superman cannot see. Which means that Bruce has probably found the right place. Whatever is happening here, Lex doesn't want Superman to know about it.

And Lex would not leave this place without protective surveillance. Though he cannot see them, there are most definitely alarms and security cameras around. Luckily, there is a (very expensive, military-grade) device on Bruce's belt that loops the footage and data of security devices.

Faced with no other options, Bruce is also forced to find the property's external ventilation system, which is used to swap out the building's inside air with its outside air. Traveling through air ducts is not ideal for him - for a large man such as he, the area is cramped and oftentimes unstable. But he will ultimately deal with this method of entrance, however problematic.

He unscrews the coverings on the vents and proceeds inside the ducts, making himself as small as possible. Throughout his trip inside, the ventilation tubes creak and threaten to collapse under his weight, though they never do. Thus, his comprehensive memorization of the building's plans allows him to recall a route to that (most likely non-surveilled) janitor's closet. He turns at the appropriate places, eventually finding his way to his desired location.

From there, he disembarks, landing lightly among brooms, mops, and other cleaning products. His cape falls around him like night descending upon the horizon, enveloping him.

This place is practically a fortress, leaving him blind to its internal contents, so he is unable to gauge how many guards might be present. Once again, discretion is key...as is efficiency. He will gather appropriate evidence, discover the truth about the prosthetics, and connect Lex to it all. He has to - all without being noticed.

Bruce slides out of the janitor's closet, practically gliding down the hallway. His shadow appears to be that of some giant, hellish beast as he continues onwards. Eventually, as he crouches downwards, he sees that he has arrived at some sort of catwalk that overlooks the whole warehouse, which, in its barest form, appears to be one huge hall.

Easily visible is the fact that it has been separated into segments by plastic curtains and makeshift metal walls. One or two guards patrol the area, looking bleary-eyed and exhausted. Bruce refuses to consider them a threat - neither of them is looking upwards. Their movements seem to be routine, like they are in a daze... their concentration lacking in the extreme. They do not even check interiors of the segments; they only navigate the small areas between them.

He waits for an opening, and when both guards have turned around, he creeps down the stairs and hides between the separator curtains. Thus, he enters one of the closed-off segments, feeling confident that the guards will not check inside for him.

A glance reveals some rather gruesome surroundings. On one long table, there appear to be body parts… but no… not quite. They glint in the inadequate light and appear too smooth to be organic. The arms, legs, and other bones and limbs that sit within his vision - they appear to be made of metal.

A closer look reveals something as disturbing, if not more so, as he initially perceived, however. In a jar beside these metal objects… there appears to be a human brain floating in some sort of suspension. And beside it - if he is not mistaken - some sort of spinal cord, lined with metal… as if that was the only part that experienced a combination of the technological and the human.

Bruce has seen exceedingly gruesome sights before, so he does not visibly react to this one… but disgust fills his brain nonetheless, even if he suppresses its effects. And further, he is stricken by fury and fear - fury toward Lex, and fear for whoever was torn apart in this way.

Another table sits beside the body parts, except its contents are covered with a white sheet. Quietly and reluctantly, Bruce pulls it back, revealing something different yet similar.

A fully formed skeleton, forged of metal, with a human brain in its cranium and a human spinal cord along its back. Its lungs are equally artificial, clearly meant to pump oxygen through tubing to the head. Where a heart may be, however, is nowhere to be found. There is simply an empty hole in the skeleton's chest, like something was meant to be there, but was cruelly removed.

The skeleton is silent, with wires sticking from some of its sockets. The brain in its head has not been receiving oxygen for some time, meaning that it is probably long dead - and that the entire thing is clearly deactivated.

But something like this, Bruce knows, cannot run without power. And he knows that Lex's main problem was generating the energy to run the prosthetics, especially since only WayneTech employees knew of a viable source of power.

But why would Lex order additional prototypes of a design...if it was nonfunctional? If he had no power source? It makes no sense…

He must have found some sort of alternate power source for these… cyborgs. Metal creatures. Monsters. But what?

Seeing something glimmer from the corner of his eye, Bruce looks closer at the chest of the metal skeleton. There appears to be a residue on its surface… green, glowing slightly. Quickly, he takes a device out of his belt, and he uses it to analyze a small sample of it. The only quality that can be quickly identified is its radioactivity… radioactivity that is unlike anything that Bruce has ever seen.

Wary of a passing guard, Bruce then calibrates the device to detect and track that form of radioactivity to its source.

He follows the device, ducking from cordoned-off segment to cordoned-off segment to conceal himself.

Eventually, he arrives in a segment that is empty...save for some sort of containment device in the center of the space. It is like a large column that has been rooted to the floor with concrete at its bottom, while its main design is formed out of a thick metallic substance. A computer keyboard is attached to its front - which can only mean that this thing, however it appears, is a safe… and that the objects inside can be retrieved with a code.

Unfortunately, that code could consist of any combination of letters and numbers, making it far harder to break. Plus, if he is not mistaken, there appears to be a thumbprint scanner as well, which will require some maneuvering to get around. Precautions have been taken.

But, in all honesty, it is nothing that Bruce has not dealt with before. If anything, he expected far more daunting security from someone like Lex.

Bruce's device indicates that the radioactive substance - Lex's coveted power source - is inside the safe, so he resolves to open it. Perhaps without it, Lex will be unable to pursue his prosthetic development in this manner. Or so he hopes.

Just as he is about to move forward, ready to crack the safe, he hears one of the guards say: "Have you checked on the green yet? It's been a while."

A groan. "What, you think it magically disappeared since the time we last checked?"

"I dunno. The boss said to guard the safe the best. To check every half-hour. I don't wanna get fired, and neither do you."

Another groan. "Fine. I'll go."

"Just stay in there. It's not like there's anything important to do that out here."

Realizing what they are talking about, Bruce rolls out of the segment containing the safe just as one of the guards pulls the curtains aside and enters.

Cursing internally, Bruce recognizes that he has lost his chance - the guard plans to stay, and Bruce cannot afford to be seen. He will have to return for the power source as soon as possible - when this warehouse is yet again empty. Or close to it.

* * *

Lois is suddenly struck by good luck - and it comes in the form of a call.

"Hey, Ms. Lane," the voice says on the other line. "You know that lady you wanted me to watch out for? Your friend's wife? Well, I just saw her in the Professor's office yesterday. I forgot to call you, though. "

She has nearly forgotten about this arrangement - the arrangement that caused her to return to the Daily Planet long after Clark's lunch. Shortly after breaking into Dr. Vale's office for the first time, she asked the professor in the opposite room, Professor Joelberg, for a small favor - one that she thought would never pan out. Generally, tip-offs can be very unreliable, and people… very uncooperative. But he seemed like he would listen to her so long as she batted her eyelashes and seemed desperate enough.

And now he _is_ contacting her, telling her that Lex's assistant is back, and interacting with Vale again.

"I'm not big into eavesdropping," he informs her bashfully over the line. "But I heard them talking through the door. They said that they're meeting up at some place today - that she'd be coming to pick him up in the afternoon. But they wouldn't talk about where, specifically."

"Oh god," Lois exclaims, faking dismay at her pretend-friend's misfortune. "I don't know how I'm gonna break this to my friend. He'll be devastated."

"It's better to tell it to him straight. I know I would've appreciated it when I-"

"Thanks for all your help," she dismisses him quickly, hanging up the phone as she looks at the all-too-quickly moving clock.

Lex's assistant is back in town, while Bruce is nowhere to be seen. She supposes she will have to deal with the matter on her own.

Maybe...maybe she should ask for Clark's help? Just in case?

No. _No. _After being totally drunk and helpless in front of him? She can't bear to do that. Besides, he is busy, and she has dealt with far worse than most people can boast. She'll be fine. Clark might just try to hold her back, in fact.

Today she will follow the professor, and find out where the experiments are taking place.

Soon enough, she departs for the University by taxi, and she orders the driver to park so that she can wait for the black sedan to arrive.

A part of Lois wonders if she is imagining it when it finally does. It creeps up to the curb silently, like a black snake waiting in the bushes, prepared to strike when unexpected. And this woman, Lex's assistant - the driver - must be just as dangerous as a snake, if not more so. After all… she probably killed Graham Templeton, and who knows how many others.

Lois has waited so long for Lex's assistant to return… and she could provide the proof needed to connect him to all his crimes.

But then again, she has come close to stopping Lex and his accomplices before, only to find herself back at square one. Could this be another instance of that? The thought is unbearable.

Soon enough, the woman with the dyed black hair exits her vehicle, and stalks - not unlike a cat with her lithe, predatory grace - into the MetU Science Building. Her return occurs several minutes later, with Professor Vale following closely behind her.

"Lady...is there a reason we're here?" Lois's cabbie wonders suddenly, his voice exasperated. Meanwhile, her eyes are fixated on the image of these two suspected criminals piling into the car. "Your fare is piling up."

"Good for you, then," she retorts. "And it'll keep piling up - I need you to follow that black car. And be discreet about it."

He seems suspicious - his eyes reveal as much in the rearview mirror. "Is that legal?"

Of course, _now_ she has the _one_ cabbie who cares more about rules than money.

Shrugging, she offers: "I think so. Probably."

Her guilt over stalking Lex's assistant is more than limited - it's nonexistent. This woman may be a killer, and she works for a killer - both need to be stopped at all costs.

"You don't sound very confident…"

"Will a $100 tip make me sound confident?"

Lois sees him roll his eyes, their movement visible in that rearview mirror. "Whatever you say, lady."

Okay, well, he doesn't value rules over money _that much_.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING SUPERHERO OR DC COMICS RELATED**

**A/N: How is it possible that I'm not at school yet and I'm already sick? Unreal. I haven't been able to write more for the third book bc my headache has been so bad. Nonetheless, I'm pretty far into it, so it's not a huge deal. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! An exciting chapter is coming up next week! Eight chapters left in this book! Please review! **

**Also... if you follow me on tumblr... I apologize for all the farmer superman posts... that was a weird week...**


	62. Chapter Twenty-Eight - Confrontation

_CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - CONFRONTATION _

While Lois is off pursuing a story of her own, Clark is forced to cover - of all things - rally supporting Lex Luthor's candidacy for mayor. It takes place just outside of the Lexcorp Towers, where, to his dismay and surprise, thousands of people arrive to voice their endorsements. He tries to suppress his fear regarding what this could mean, and his disgust toward the people making these potential situations a reality. How could people truly think that Lex will help the city, and not just himself? How can these people fail to see that Lex has a darkness about him?

Their enthusiasm for his candidacy is not a good omen. But he supposes that a lot of people in Metropolis work for Lex - directly or indirectly - and therefore feel obligated or comfortable with the idea of him running their city as well. Plus, people must be so disillusioned with Berkowitz by now that they will accept anyone with open arms.

Currently, Lex is standing at a podium, addressing the ralliers. Clark, meanwhile, stands discreetly in the crowd, taking notes.

Lex is wearing one of his best-pressed suits, and further, his most charismatic smile. But no matter how he tries to hide it, to Clark, Lex's pretentious attitude always shines through his facade. On the other hand, perhaps Clark knows enough about Lex's true intentions that he can see it easily… while other people cannot.

"Metropolis has long been known as 'The City of Tomorrow,'" Lex booms into the microphone. "But our tomorrows have been held back by ineffectual, inefficient, and immoral government officials."

The crowd yells in agreement. And while the first two descriptors were solely attributable to Mayor Berkowitz, Clark knows that Lex has no right to criticize immorality in others.

"No more, I say. Metropolis deserves better than that. For years, I have brought seemingly futuristic technologies into existence within the world we know. I can do the same for this city above all others. I can make the better futures we dream of a reality - today. No other candidate has the resources, the savvy, or the drive that I can offer you...the people of Metropolis. So if you choose me as your mayor… you certainly will not regret it. You will find yourself in brighter, better todays… and tomorrows."

There is thunderous applause, and Lex leaves the stage, waving stiffly at the crowd. From that point onwards, people trickle out of the Lexcorp Towers' courtyard, seeing as the rally has ended. Clark stays for a few minutes, interviewing ralliers and editing his notes. Everything he discovers seems to be pro-Lex propaganda, with no attention to his plans for policy. It is no surprise that Clark loses interest rather quickly.

Just as the courtyard empties almost entirely and Clark prepares to leave, someone suddenly grabs his shoulder. The grip is tight - not tight enough to hurt someone like Clark, but so tight that there is clearly some hostility behind the gesture.

He spins around to see the visage of Lex Luthor, who has grabbed his shoulder in a sort of urgent fashion.

"We need to talk," he hisses, like they should not be overheard.

"Not interested," Clark retorts impatiently, ripping his own shoulder out of reach.

"Before you decide to automatically dismiss my words, please know that I don't have to aid you, and that I am doing so out of the kindness of my heart."

"Aid me?" Clark repeats in skeptical incredulity. "Aid me in what?"

Lex brusquely pulls out his cell phone, talking as he does so. "I am well-aware that there are devices that can essentially hijack the frequencies of certain security devices - making cameras and motion detectors loop their data, for instance. That is why I have VCR backups on all of my surveillance, which can be retrieved at a later date and are unrelated to those vulnerable digital frequencies."

"Thanks for the technology lesson. Why should I care?"

"A building in my possession had a break-in last night."

"So call the police. Since when have you ever wanted _my_ help?"

Clark is referring to Lex's intense hatred toward Superman, and all that the S-shield represents. Time after time, Lex has condemned his deeds to the media, claiming that Superman is derailing humanity's self-determinism. Admittedly, his claims were never _entirely_ unfounded - not even in Clark's own eyes - which makes this plea for help all the odder.

"My security systems were placed in a loop by a high-tech jammer while someone rather...infamous… snuck inside. The cameras' VCR backup caught him… he did not anticipate that I would still value older technologies. And yet, in this situation, they served me quite well."

Lex holds out his phone, which has a screen filled with a somewhat blurry photo, for Clark to see.

Walking down what appears to be a hallway is a large, demonic-seeming, black bat. And yet...it is not as otherworldly as it initially seems. Now that he is scrutinizing it closer, he can see that it is simply a man in a bat costume.

"Where and when did this happen?"

"Late last night, at a warehouse in Suicide Slums," Lex replies darkly.

Clark starts at that a bit. Gotham's _Batman_ is in Metropolis? In Suicide Slums? What is he doing here, and has he brought trouble with him?

"And why are you telling me this, again?"

Lex sighs briefly, and when he speaks, his voice is ominous. "This building… was one of many locations that I used to store Kryptonite. Which means-"

Clark's eyebrows shoot upwards. "You think he's after that? But why? I've never done anything to him. There's no reason for him to stockpile weapons against me."

"I try not to waste my time examining the motives of men who dress as large rodents."

"Still...what do you care if I live or die? Usually, you'd celebrate an attempt on my life."

"Kryptonite is potentially worth billions of dollars, Kent. I am not one to let my supplies get stolen so easily. The Batman is known to be quite violent, and I don't trust that my guards are capable of handling him. I am thus giving you - someone with superpowers - the opportunity to apprehend him personally. My employees will be expecting you."

"Apprehend him? You think he'll come back?"

"He left rather quickly, and the Kryptonite was still there in the morning. That leads me to believe he was only scoping out the building, and that he will surely return tonight. Reportedly, the Batman does not operate during the day."

"I still don't understand why he would have a vendetta against me," Clark muses, bewildered by the emergence of such a new enemy. An enemy he has not wronged, and further, an enemy that supposedly has fought for justice.

"As someone who dislikes you very much, I can argue that there are many possible reasons. Only the naive put you up on a pedestal," Lex casually informs him, preparing to walk back toward the building. But then he stops, and adds: "One more thing, Kent - that Kryptonite is legally mine. You take it, and I'll sue. You'd be no better than the Batman."

"Having it in your hands is no better than having it in the Batman's hands."

"Untrue. I have a mayoral campaign to run, and killing you would ruin my image. As you probably know, I plan to be - and probably _will_ be - the face of Metropolis very soon. I have more important things to deal with," Lex declares. And then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he is walking away.

Clark shudders at the thought.

* * *

Lois sits outside the warehouse for a while, simply observing. Lex's assistant and Dr. Vale entered it hours ago, and since then, they have not exited. On the other hand, other objects and people have left the building. Boxes and boxes of equipment are systematically carted out by workmen onto a large truck. Finally, as the sun begins to set, Vale emerges yet again. He frantically checks over the cargo in the truck, and when he is seemingly finished with doing so, he closes its back and climbs into the shotgun seat. It is not long before the vehicle starts and pulls away.

Now the truck is gone, and everything is quiet. No one leaves, nothing is around. Night falls, and Lois continues waiting - her cab fare stacking up. The cabbie stops asking her exasperated questions about two hours into her ride with him, so she sits in silence now. Even the car's lights and engine have been turned off.

But Lex's assistant is nowhere to be seen. Still inside, probably. Which is most likely where Lois needs to go.

She wonders if there is a viable way into the building. All the windows are sealed shut, and she is sure that the doors will be heavily guarded. So what can she do?

As she continues watching, she sees something rather strange out of the corner of her eye. Like a shadow upon an already dark night, it appears that someone dressed in black is approaching the building.

Lois leans forward, trying to get a better look. And that's when she realizes _who_ the person is. The black cape, the yellow belt, the cowl that all seem barely visible in the low lamplight… they give him away.

Somehow, for some reason, the Batman is present in Metropolis, here, at this building.

Lois watches avidly as he goes toward the side of the property and appears to crouch down. His hands pull off some sort of vent cover and he leaves it leaning against the wall. With dexterity and haste, he slides into whatever opening that the removed vent cover revealed, and within a few seconds, he is gone.

With a jolt, Lois realizes, that there is nothing stopping her from entering the building in the same method. And dear God… now she really has to, doesn't she? This is no longer just about Lex… the Batman is involved as well.

_Wow,_ she thinks. _The Batman… _

But what is his connection to all this? Why is he in Metropolis? How did he know that this place exists? So many questions… none of which can be answered from out here. She will need to head inside to gather evidence and access to the truth.

After swiping her credit card in the cab's machine, she wordlessly leaves the cab, and he speeds away. From then on, she silently approaches the building, wary of any guards or other potential threats. None are in sight.

Lois has never traveled through a ventilation system before. But for a scoop this big… well, she just might have to try something new.

* * *

Bruce proceeds into the building the same way that he did the previous night. Into the janitor's closet, through the hallway, onto the catwalk. He moves quicker now that he knows his surroundings better.

But that knowledge of his surroundings now fills him with apprehension as well.

Because right now, the warehouse is abandoned. There are no guards here tonight - none at all. All the opaque plastic curtains have been removed, along with the makeshift metal walls. The hall is no longer separated into sections - there is only one, large, circular floor now. And at its center is Bruce's target: the safe containing the radioactive power source.

It's too convenient. And too strange that the contents of the warehouse have been so quickly emptied after a few hours.

Perhaps this is a trap.

Regardless, he realizes that he will have to proceed no matter what. Even in the event of a trap, he _has_ to retrieve that power source. Otherwise...who knows what Lex will use it for?

In Bruce's eyes, there are only two potential options here: he springs the trap and suffers difficulty in obtaining his target, or he easily procures his target and meets absolutely no resistance in the process. He sincerely hopes it is the latter, but he is also fairly confident that he can ward off Lexcorp security guards if they confront him. Plus, if a trap has been placed, he must have already been seen, and thus, he has nothing to lose. If there is no trap, tonight will be a simpler task than he anticipated.

Bruce leaves the catwalk and approaches the safe tentatively, watching for any indication of an ambush. None are visible. So he continues forward until he is directly in front of the safe's keyboard - a keyboard that requires a code that he does not have.

From his utility belt, Bruce takes out a small chemical vial, and sprinkles it lightly on the keyboard. It takes several seconds, but a chemical reaction soon reveals small deposits of phosphorescence on the most frequently pressed keys. Their order, on the other hand, will present something of a challenge. He tries to unscramble the particular keys - to see if the letters form any words, or some other string of significance. But he comes up with nothing… it must be completely randomized.

He may just have to break open the safe. That will most certainly trigger an alarm, but he can be long gone by the time anyone responds to it. He cares little for the contents of the safe, and if they get damaged, it will not matter to him. All he wants is for them to be out of Lex's hands.

Thus, Bruce opens his belt yet again and places a small deposit of plastique on the safe's exterior. He is just about to detonate it when-

"We've got you now, asshole!" someone yells.

Just then, someone opens fire on the hall, making Bruce instinctively jump and take evasive maneuvers. The bullets are clearly automatic, and coming from the catwalk above him. He does not waste time looking upwards before he sprints for cover. The area beneath the stairs - there's an opening where he can duck for a few seconds, and though it may trap him, it is still better that his assailants come downstairs to confront him face to face. It would be unwise to remain in a location where they have the high ground.

By some miracle, the bullets do not hit anywhere serious. His armor protects him to a certain point - enough bullets _will_ kill him, though.

When he blindly dives under the dark staircase for cover, he feels himself collide with something - something that cries out "Ouch!" when he makes contact. Something that is hard and fleshy and ends up sprawled under him.

As the bullets continue to ricochet around the stairs, Bruce's eyes focus and he sees, to his utmost disbelief, _Lois Lane_ beneath him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Even by accident, he has her pinned with his body weight, but she appears so stunned that he doubts that she could move anyway.

How did she get in here? How did she even learn about this place? He never told her about it - to protect her. Regardless, she must have broken into the building, and hid under the stairs when his back was turned...when he was facing and focused on the safe.

Maybe Lex learned that they were working together, and lured them both here. Or maybe they are far too similar in their investigative abilities, and are now suffering for their mutual fallacies.

Her arrival has distracted him too much, because he finds himself unprepared when he hears the footsteps travelling down the stairs at top speed. The guards, or whoever these attackers are, have ceased shooting to corner Bruce beneath the stairs. He cannot ready himself enough to fight them - not with Lois here. She has no protective armor… nothing to keep her safe from the bullets except his own body. He must place himself on top of her - be her human shield when she has no alternate shield of her own. She would not even _be_ _here_ if not for Bruce dragging her into this investigation, and they would have ignored her presence if he had not collided with her…

The guards surround both sides of the stairs, pointing their guns and smiling wickedly. One of them is Lex's assistant - her appearance marked by her dark black hair and sour expression. But now, there is some satisfaction as she holds her gun. And oddly enough, her gun, nor her smirk, is not pointed at the Batman - instead, it is focused on Lois. The assistant's eyes seem to have fixated on that target in particular.

Bruce continues to pin Lois to the ground, prepared to drop himself over her to protect her from their fire.

"Get off of me!" he hears her scream and she attempts to push him off. Understandably, with his mask, she does not recognize him. "We need to run, you idiot!"

"Kill the intruders," the assistant orders the men as guns cock. "Both of them."

Gunshot wounds are a poetic way for him to die, he thinks. Like a circle coming to a close. Lois just should not have been dragged along with him. His suit will not protect him forever, and she will only last a little longer beneath his corpse. But that's the most he can offer her at the current moment.

The guns open fire, and Bruce truly believes that death is coming for him. But for some reason… it never truly arrives.

Instead, a gust of wind seems to circle around them, intercepting each bullet before it can touch them. But this gust of wind is no simple thing - it is a person. Because soon enough, the constant circle of wind stops as the ammunition runs out. In its place appears the ever-imposing Superman with the bullets caught between his fingers. Casually, he lets them fall from his hand onto the concrete floor. It is ironic that they tinkle like something harmless...like windchimes… even though they are so far from being such.

"That's enough of that," Superman says impatiently, his gaze focused on the guards. "We're not going to kill him - so put down your guns."

"He's trespassing. We're within our rights. Besides, Lex gave us orders-" the assistant protests, the hatred on her features directed at Superman.

"He told you to open fire, if necessary. And that _won't_ be necessary - not if I'm here," Superman replies seriously. Then, he begins to turn to Bruce, his expression weary. "Batman, this is your opportunity to surren-"

But now that he has looked directly at the Batman, something changes in his look.

Horror. It is consumed by abject horror. And shortly thereafter, that horror morphs into pure fury. But...why? The Batman may be terrifying to superstitious criminals… but to someone who can probably smash diamond? What reason would he have to be afraid...and now, so angry?

Bruce suddenly realizes the reason behind the change. _Lois Lane _is beneath him, pinned to the ground like a hostage, struggling against his weight. The same Lois Lane that, according to his theories about Superman's identity, was romantically involved with the Man of Steel.

"Superman?" she calls as she looks at him appealingly, but she makes no specific request of him. And it seems that, for a few seconds, Superman's gaze is magnetized to hers.

_Dammit_, Bruce thinks. Because right now, Bruce appears to not only be some sort of thief, but also a keeper of a hostage. And not just any hostage - one of the few people that seem to have a personal connection to Superman.

And thus, a monstrously raging voice soon snarls, "Get _off_ of her!"

Bruce then is quite literally _torn_ away from Lois by a monumental force, and that force throws him against a wall on the other side of the room. His body _smashes_ into it like a wrecking ball, thus forcing the breath out of his lungs and dazing him with sharp pain.

* * *

After flying her out of the warehouse, Clark sets Lois down upon the roof of a distant building. He searches her for injuries, his fingers tucked under her chin so that he can examine her head and neck. She appears to have no physical breakages, and no concussion. Bruises, maybe. Her heart is beating quickly from the exhilaration of the past few minutes, but that is understandable.

"I'm fine," she claims, quite aware of what he is doing. "Seriously, Clark, stop! I'm okay!"

"I want to make sure-"

"He didn't hurt me."

"It looked like he was about to."

"We just bumped into each other. He was heavier so he fell on top of me. It was an accident," she tells him impatiently.

"I don't know if I believe that. He still had you pinned when I arrived," Clark says darkly, his voice transformed into a growl by anger.

"Honestly, I don't think he was trying to hurt me."

"Lois - he's trying to steal Kryptonite. Which means that he's trying to get to me."

"I was there by coincidence. And besides, what purpose would hurting me serve?" she demands. "You and I… we're not _like that _anymore. Even the press has given up on gossiping about us."

He decides to change the subject instead of engaging in a lie. Because, as far as his emotions are concerned, they are still exactly like that - except that she probably does not reciprocate, and that he is pretending to not feel anything at all.

"Lois… what were you doing there?" he asks, bewildered. "Why did you break into that warehouse?"

She glances at her feet, and her heart speeds up - she is preparing to lie to _him_ this time. "I..uh...I was-"

"_What_ is going on?" he demands.

"I can't tell you that," she says seriously. "I'm sorry, Clark. Right now, it's not my secret to tell."

"Then whose secret is it?"

Lois doesn't respond, and Clark does not have the time to question her further.

So he exhales sharply with exasperation, saying, "I'm heading back - I need to make sure that the Batman doesn't get away - with or without the Kryptonite."

He begins to walk off, but right before he departs, she grabs his hand tightly. He has almost forgotten the way her fingers fit so perfectly around his own, how the skin of her palms feels rough yet _real_.

The effect of the gesture is instantaneous - he freezes in place, his body still and his eyes blinking into the distance.

"Be careful," she warns. "Especially around Kryptonite. You know that."

He manages to nod, and from there, he takes flight, releasing her hand to avoid dragging her with him.

* * *

A few seconds of recovery are adequate enough for Bruce to realize that Lois - and Superman - have both disappeared. But the guards have not, and the safe has not. And if Superman is too distracted by the prospect of getting Lois to safety, Bruce might still have a chance to retrieve what is inside...

The guards are without ammunition now, so taking them down is relatively easy. In fact, by the time he stands, the assistant is already running away, so he is relieved of dealing with her. The rest go down rather easily, and soon enough, his path to the safe is clear.

Bruce approaches it, yet again prepared to blast it open, but before he can, Superman returns out of nowhere and throws him back toward the wall, yet again smashing his body against the bricks. Bruce collapses to his knees, and is forced to stare up at Superman from the floor as he tries to gather his breath yet again. The detonator has evidently been torn from Bruce's grasp, and he can only watch as Superman crushes it between his index finger and his thumb.

"I don't know why vigilantes are so interested in kryptonite, but you're _not_ getting it," he growls, his eyes glowing red.

Is this the heat vision Bruce has heard about? He will admit… it is rather intimidating. But he refuses to let that show.

Superman continues: "And don't even _think_ about going near Lois Lane again - you won't get within three miles of her. That I assure you."

Bruce sees that Superman is squinting intensely toward his cowl, and it is then that he realizes that he is trying...and failing… to do.

"Quit trying to peek under my mask. You won't see anything," Bruce grits out. With Lex's files, Bruce took precautions against Superman's powers (at least to a certain degree). He has a layer of lead in his cowl now. Unfortunately, he had to line the lead with other sealing polymers to avoid its metallic poisons, but ultimately, he now realizes that the design was worth it.

Superman's eyebrows knit together. "Lead. How did you know about that?"

"I think we're misunderstanding each other-"

"You have a cowl lined with lead, you're trying to steal kryptonite, and you were just holding a woman hostage," Superman says furiously. "It's pretty clear to me… that you're dangerous. Or planning something dangerous. And for that reason, I'm going to have to turn you into the authorities."

"I'm _not_ the one who's trying to hurt people," Bruce growls furiously.

Superman gestures to the various Lexcorp guards that are sprawled along the ground, still unconscious from the Batman's recent fight with them. "They seem pretty _hurt_ to me."

Bruce suddenly realizes how ingeniously Lex must have manipulated the situation. Superman would only be here… if Lex told him to be. The walls are soundproofed and lead-lined. Superman would never think to come here on his own. But if Lex somehow learned that the Batman had visited this warehouse, and informed Superman that the Batman was trying to steal Kryptonite… well, Bruce certainly seems guilty of trying to kill Superman. And now, with whatever twist of fate that brought Lois here… his guilt has essentially been sealed.

"They attacked first."

"That's their job - to protect the contents of this warehouse."

"The contents of this warehouse are the problem. Listen to me -"

"If you have something to say, you can say it in an interrogation room," Superman replies, approaching him. "You just assaulted several people. I'll be happy to listen to you once you're in custody.

Bruce's hand reaches into his belt and pulls out yet another small device. "Believe it or not, I'm doing this to protect _everyone_ \- including you."

With that, he presses a button, and a wave of high-pitched, reverberating sound crashes through the room. It must reflect off the walls, amplifying it like a tidal wave building upon himself.

Oddly enough, Bruce can hardly hear it - the frequency has nearly no effect on human ears, but he knows that Superman most certainly detects its loudness. He can be seen crying out, his hands clutching and covering his ears as he temporarily drops to his knees. Pain consumes his features, evidencing distraction, so Bruce takes this as his opportunity to open the safe-

But then the smell of melting metal reaches Bruce's nose, and it is soon clear that the sonic device has ceased working. From where he kneels, Superman's eyes are glowing red, his gaze directed intensely on the sonic emitter that has been turned into a lump of smoking goo.

Superman stands and crosses his arms, his expression unamused.

"Huh. Apparently you know about my minor vulnerability to sonics as well - in fact, it seems like that you've thoroughly considered how to take me down. And yet you claim that you're protecting me?"

"I'm just defending myself," Bruce replies stiffly. "As for my knowledge of your weaknesses, that comes courtesy of Lex Luthor's files. I lifted them off of _his_ systems."

Bruce though that Superman would be startled or concerned by this information. After all...someone who is otherwise believed to be trustworthy - Lex - is planning to kill him. But Superman is entirely unphased - he even looks _bored_ by this accusation.

"I already know he has files on me."

"You… you do?" Bruce stammers. "And yet you don't care?"

"I care, but he hasn't acted against me yet. Maybe he never will. So right now, to me, you're the bigger threat. You're a loose cannon, and there's no telling what you plan to do with that Kryptonite."

"I plan to get rid of it."

"I find that difficult to believe. And your heart is beating too fast - meaning that you're probably lying."

The real reason it is beating quickly, on the other hand, is Bruce's nervousness regarding being caught. Just by wearing the mask, Bruce is technically lying - about who he is. And hell will find him if that mask is removed for the world to see. He knows very well that Superman is capable of capturing him - of revealing his identity. It is a miracle that he has not been offered to the police already.

"It seems that you've already decided that I'm guilty."

"I think that you just knocked out several hard-working people so that you can steal a rock that can kill me."

"I told you -I'm stealing it so it won't kill you - or anyone else."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Lex...has plans… they're hard to explain right now, but if you were here last night, you would have seen-"

"I've heard enough," Superman says, taking steps toward Bruce yet again. In desperation, Bruce throws several explosive batarangs at him, but they have no effect on him - they fail to even slow him down. Instead, he just walks confidently through the smoke, like a freight train pushing through fog.

Once Superman is close enough, Bruce proceeds to throw punches at him in an equally desperate manner, but the blows nearly break Bruce's hand, so he abandons that plan. Then, finally, Bruce tries to use his grapple to pull himself out of reach and escape, but he knows even that is a lost cause. Superman uses a concentrated blast of heat vision to snap his cord easily, and the Batman tumbles back toward the floor.

His last ditch effort is throwing a smoke pellet, which should hide him from any normal person's sight, but he knows that Superman is _not_ normal. Its main purpose, if anything, is to prevent Lex's security cameras from seeing him defeated so easily - Lex doesn't deserve that satisfaction.

Bruce never anticipated that the Man of Steel, Lex Luthor's supposed enemy, would actually show up to defend Luthor's possession of the Kryptonite. And he never anticipated that Lex would be this many steps ahead.

Amidst the hissing smoke, as Bruce turns around and prepares to sprint away, he is grabbed by his cape and pulled backward. And it is in that direction that he falls.

"I'm not as easily outrun as the Gotham Police," Bruce hears Superman say as he looms above him. One of his feet is placed on his chest to pin him down, and Superman reaches down toward Bruce's cowl.

The smoke is still spiraling around them when Bruce feels his mask - the mask that is made off some of the strongest polymers in existence - ripped off of his face like it is nothing but mere plastic wrap.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THESE CHARACTERS OR CONCEPTS, THEY BELONG TO DC COMICS ETC**

**A/N: I know this is late! School started and I've had approximately 0 time to myself. I still don't have time right now so excuse errors if you find them. See you! Hope you enjoyed. **


	63. Chapter Twenty-Nine - Liars

_CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - LIARS_

Eager to write the story about Batman's appearance in Metropolis, Lois practically sprints back to her apartment. Her limbs are still a little sore from her literal (and painful) _collision_ with Gotham's most famous vigilante, but she ignores such pain as she presses forward.

She has no idea whether Clark will try to report on the story first. Thus, she must act before he does...finish the story and post it before he even has the chance to _sit_ at the computer.

The apartment-bound taxi appears to move far too slowly, and she spends the majority of her trip nervously clutching at her seat. Luckily, Clark deposited her on a building close to her apartment, so the time it takes to return home, in actuality, is not that long. For that reason, the fare is small. That's good news - her last taxi ride was probably several hundred dollars, given the amount of time she spent waiting outside that warehouse.

After an excruciatingly impatient elevator ride, Lois finally reaches her door and locates her keys. She slides them into the lock and swings the door open, effectively letting herself inside.

She is stunned to see that almost all of her lights are on, even though she left them off this morning.

Bad sign. If she didn't turn them on...then who did?

Cautiously, Lois ventures further inside, wary of intruders. And upon entering the living room, she finds them - but they are not exactly the type of intruders she expected.

Clark, clothed in the Superman costume, is standing against the wall with his arms crossed, his blue eyes already fixated on her - as if her entrance has been long-expected. As usual, he looks regal and graceful… like something out of a painting.

Why is he here, she wonders? He hasn't visited her here...in their (her) apartment for ages.

Confusion strikes her as she realizes that beside him, sitting on the couch, is another figure - one that looks familiar. But her ability to identify it is impaired by its crouched stance, reminiscent an animal on its guard. Black fabric covers it from head to toe, furthering the impression that this is a creature, not a person.

No wait… it is not _completely_ covered. That black fabric on its skull is actually the hair on its bowed head. In fact, the face remains uncovered, and soon enough, it is looking up at her.

It is at this moment that Lois realizes that this is no animal.

Bruce Wayne is staring at her amidst the swathe of a black cape, his ice-colored eyes glinting furiously in the light of her apartment. His current outfit _should_ be strange and unfamiliar on him. But even though she has not encountered Bruce recently, Lois knows that she has seen such attire before. Tonight, in fact - at the warehouse.

The cape, the armor peeking out from under it, the remains of what seems to be some sort of shattered mask around his face… they all reveal one disturbing fact.

Bruce Wayne...is dressed as the Batman.

Or more likely… he _is _the Batman.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Lois demands, the question half for Clark, and half for Bruce.

Clark's expression is tight - lips pressed together and jaw clenched. Briefly and intermittently, he glares at Bruce, who returns the expression with equal intensity and sentiment.

"I finally met your new boyfriend, Lois," Clark replies finally, arms still crossed. "I just didn't realize that he had such _exotic_ hobbies. Like dressing up as a bat, for instance."

"You can't be serious," Lois says in disbelief, still staring at Bruce, who is still clothed in that infamous costume - the Batman costume. Desperately, she scrutinizes him, hoping that there are no similarities between the vigilante she saw tonight and the man sitting before her now. "This is _Bruce_ _Wayne_ we're talking about. He's no crime-fighter."

Unfortunately, the body structure... the shape of his chin… they all seem to match up.

But it _can't_ be true. Surely she would have known...or guessed?

Then, suddenly, her previous thoughts are forgotten as her gaze shifts to Clark in incredulity. What...what is he _doing_, hanging around her apartment so casually? Superman is not supposed to do this sort of thing - her relationship with him is supposed to appear completely professional, and Bruce is _right there_.

Trying to salvage this situation, Lois stammers, "And w-why are you in my home, uh, Superman?"

Exhaling, Clark replies: "There's no point to that, Lois. He already knows my identity."

Lois's eyes widen further, but she maintains the charade. "What? _Bruce Wayne_ knows your identity and I don't? Very rude."

"Lois - stop. He knows everything. _Everything_. In fact…" Clark gives his head a small, angry shake. "He made a point of _retelling_ my life story to me when I brought him here."

"But...how would he…?"

"That's _exactly_ what I was wondering, Lois," he replies curtly, like she is the one who should answer that question. His brows knit together, and soon enough, he is asking, "You...didn't...you didn't _tell him_, did you?"

His voice sounds so anguished...like the thought is simultaneously painful and revolting.

"_What_?"

"Did you tell him who I am, Lois? I mean, I get that you two are _close_ now, but God, that doesn't give you the right to...do you really hate me that much-?"

"Of course not!" Lois asserts with indignation, trying to ignore his frantic yet _hurt_ tone of voice. "I would never do that to you!"

"But how else would he find out, Lois, except from you?"

She doesn't know. She honestly doesn't. But clearly, Clark is hurt by the very idea that she would betray him like this, and she isn't sure that she can regain his trust when there are so few explanations.

But ultimately, she doesn't need to explain herself.

For the first time since she has seen him, Bruce interrupts them, seeming annoyed. "Wrong, boy scout. _You_ revealed yourself to me. Her involvement was almost irrelevant."

Clark's eyes narrow as they fall on Bruce. They are filled with skepticism so strong that he might as well be looking at the devil. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The corner of Bruce's mouth briefly quirks upward in a smirk. "Word to the wise - when you spill hot coffee on yourself, at least _pretend_ to get burned."

That strikes a chord - the fists attached to Clark's arms clench and his entire stance stiffens. The result is rather intimidating, since all his muscles seem to grow even more pronounced. Hostility like this from Clark is very rare, Lois knows. His voice is a furious murmur when he replies, "Normally, I _do_. But I was-"

"Distracted?" Bruce finishes for him, an eyebrow raised knowingly.

They glower at one another for a long time. Meanwhile, Lois is still gaping at Bruce, unable to process the fact that he...that he is the _Batman_.

"So, what?" Clark demands finally, speaking to Lois again. "You didn't want to tell me that your boyfriend's been trying to kill me? Or that he's a wanted vigilante?"

"What - what are you talking about?" Lois sputters. "I had no idea that Bruce was - is the Batman. I still can't believe…"

She trails off.

The worst part of it all is… that it makes _so much_ sense. The clinical way he speaks and acts is so suitable for a detective, like the Batman is supposed to be. The brooding in his features and personality, his penchant for the intellectual, his near-unhealthy obsession with defeating Lex, all those times he was obligated to return to Gotham - they all suggested the existence of a greater secret. A _huge_ secret.

That Bruce Wayne is the Batman.

How else would the Batman pay for all of his fancy gadgets? Why else would a CEO be concerned with morality and criminal activity?

The Batman is even known to have a partner… Robin, the Boy Wonder. A partner that is now around the same age as Dick Grayson, Bruce's ward.

Christ, how could she have been so blind?

"I can't believe you kept this from me, Bruce," Lois then murmurs, finishing her previous sentence. "I thought we trusted each other more than that. I mean, after everything-?"

He gives her a long, hard look for several seconds, but eventually, Bruce hangs his head slightly. "I'm sorry...I hope you can understand that my secrecy was - sincerely - for your protection," is his response, however quiet it may be. Lois is not prepared to accept the apology.

"If you _didn't_ know, then he must have been using you," Clark says suspiciously. "His renewed 'feelings' for you cannot be a coincidence - he must have wanted to get close to you... and me, by extension."

Bruce rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Don't become a detective anytime soon, boy scout. Believe it or not… I legitimately needed Lois's help with something serious. A project."

"And what project is that? An attempt to kill me? Or an attempt to play with an innocent woman's emotions?"

Lois also rolls her eyes at the last part. _As if_ Bruce Wayne could ever play with her emotions.

"None of the above. Lois was helping me gather evidence against Lex Luthor."

"_What?_" Clark demands, glancing between them furiously.

"He stole technological designs from my company, intending to weaponize them. And because I had previous dealings with Lois, I figured I could trust her to help me act against him. In exchange for her information on Lex, I would provide the best money lawyers can buy to _ensure_ that he ends up behind bars."

Clark spins around to stare at Lois, betrayal etched along his features. "You've been investigating Lex without me? Is that the reason you were at the warehouse tonight?"

Lois nods slowly.

"You could have told me, you know!" Clark says loudly. "I could have helped!"

"If Lex knew that I was investigating him, he would have moved his operations elsewhere," Bruce points out impatiently. "Besides, I _had_ an identity to protect, and the last thing I wanted was someone with _super senses_ sniffing around my personal life."

"So we formed a ruse - a cover. All the times that we were on 'dates,' we were conducting our investigation. And as far as we knew, Lex never caught on," Lois adds quietly.

Clark blinks and continues staring at Lois. "Are you saying that… you two… were never really dating?"

They both nod seriously.

"Lex couldn't know what we were doing. I thought we were just hiding it from him," Lois adds quickly.

"And for my sake, I was hiding it from _you_. You play by the rules a bit too much for my taste - I knew you wouldn't hesitate to take me in," Bruce continues in a patronizing voice. "But thanks to you, the safety of everyone I have ever cared about was nearly compromised _anyway_. Had you taken me to the police-"

"Once I saw your face, I knew I couldn't do that," Clark interrupts bitterly. "I know who the Batman's enemies are - I'm not stupid. Plus, it's all over the tabloids that Lois Lane is dating Bruce Wayne. If someone like the _Joker_ discovered that Bruce Wayne is the Batman… the last thing I need is for _her_ to be attacked by association."

Silence envelopes the room for a minute. Then, Clark angrily asks, "And what about the warehouse? What's so special about it?"

"Lex turned WayneTech prosthetic designs into super soldier enhancements powered by Kryptonite. I was trying to steal their power source before he could perfect anything, but...you seemed very determined to ensure his success there, _Superman_," Bruce explains resentfully. "Your interference allowed him to keep the Kryptonite."

"I was following one of our leads there. I had no idea that Bruce would be there as well, disguised or not," Lois explains as well.

"That's what the kryptonite is for? A power source?" Clark asks.

Bruce's tone is very ominous when he replies: "My best guess is that he wants his super soldiers to be able to kill _you_, among other things."

"Oh, I _see_," Clark sarcastically exclaims, visibly enraged. Lois has rarely ever seen him so furious; it is so disconcertingly unlike his normally diplomatic reactions to everything. "So you thought you simply _wouldn't_ tell me that these weapons were meant to be used against me? That you two would just keep working behind my back, even though this problem directly involves _me_?"

"I was under the impression that you didn't want to work with me anymore, Clark," Lois says impatiently. "So I found someone else to work with."

"You lied to me, Lois."

"Like you haven't done that to _me_ before, Clark?" Lois demands, crossing her own arms this time. "Get a grip. You said that you wanted to focus on being Superman, so I _let you_."

"And it's not like you're entirely innocent, Kent," Bruce says accusingly. "You've lied to her just as much."

"What are you talking about?" both Lois and Clark wonder in unison, confused by Bruce's words.

"You heard me," he continues. "I don't care or know what he told you during the breakup, Lois. It's obvious that he's still in love with you. Body language tells all."

Stunned, her eyes lock onto Clark, searching for the truth in his expression. What is Bruce's meaning, she wonders? There's no way that he… that Clark… still shares her feelings. Why would he end it between them if he did? No, it's simply not possible. And she refuses to get her hopes up like this.

Clark's jaw clenches even further, and he sighs hugely. "You don't know anything about me, Bruce."

"Don't insult me. You're a textbook case, Kent," Bruce retorts. "Now that you're not wearing those ridiculous glasses, I can see that every time you look at her, your pupils dilate. Biologically, that indicates affection. And even when you're addressing me directly - physically turned toward me, even - your feet are still pointed toward _her_, which means that you subconsciously want to approach her. Plus, when she speaks, you lean toward her - a lot. And I'm not very inclined to look below your belt, but if I had to guess… I'd speculate that, despite your anger, you probably look pretty happy to see her."

After that prolonged spew of observations, Bruce leans back and sits silently with the ghost of an amused expression on his features. "No matter how hard you try, boy scout, you're a terrible liar when it comes to how you feel."

Stupefied, Lois and Clark both glance downward, as if trying to verify Bruce's words (he does appear to be a bit happy to see her toward the belt, if she's being honest). It is then that Clark gapes at Bruce, sputtering something incoherent but defensive in tone.

"Why did you break up with her, if you still love her?" Bruce inquires between Clark's mangled utterances. "It seems awfully odd to me."

Lois's thoughts are moving at a thousand miles per hour - even if they are all wondering the same thing that Bruce asked. In her experience, Bruce is rarely wrong about facts in general, and if Clark's feelings toward her are as factual as he suggests they are, then is it true? Does Clark still love her? And if so, why is he hiding it?

"Clark…" Lois begins, tentatively reaching toward him. "Is he telling the truth? Do you still-?"

Clark exhales sharply and jerks away from her touch, which she quickly rescinds. "I'm… I...I am _not_ _talking_ about this in front of _him_, Lois!"

"He's still in love with you," Bruce confirms for her nonchalantly from the couch. "If he isn't, he would have simply and quickly denied it. But not only did he hesitate, but he also failed to answer fully."

"You are _not_ a goddamn relationship counselor!" Clark yells. "Don't pretend that you know everything about me. You don't. You _can't_."

Lois, meanwhile, _can't_ believe this. Not only was Bruce hiding his vigilante activities from her when she thought she could trust him, but apparently, Clark _also_ lied to her about how he feels. It took months for Lois to suppress her suspicions toward Bruce, and she has suffered heartbreak even longer thanks to Clark. But now… now she knows that every emotion, every struggle, and even every triumph… was built on a foundation of lies.

She didn't love Bruce, but she at least thought they were good friends - the kind that don't keep deep, dark, dangerous secrets from one another. (Christ, now she can't even write her story without risking his identity). And Clark… he tore out her heart. And for what? What cause was so worthwhile that a major lie was justifiable?

She has yet to find someone who is completely honest with her. All she knows is that she is _done_ being toyed with, _done_ being treated as someone who cannot handle the truth, _done _dealing with men of mystery. Anger boils under her skin, bubbling from a heated resentment at her core - a resentment that has built and grown in the wake of Clark's abandonment of her. A resentment that is exploding like an overflowing dam… temporarily suppressed, but with weakening walls. And now the walls finally crumble.

"Get out of my apartment," she growls.

"What?" Bruce and Clark ask, their voices simultaneous this time. They are equally surprised by her tone.

"I said _GET OUT_!" she orders them, louder this time. "It's late. I'm tired. And not just physically tired, but I am _exhausted_ by your lies. So I'm going to bed, and I want you two gone. Feel free to save the world without me."

Neither of them budge. They merely stare at her with a degree of concern. And right now, the last thing she needs from them is _more_ concern. They always justify themselves - their lies - with the cause of protecting others. With Bruce, that is most definitely the case - he said so. But with Clark… well, she can certainly guess that his lies have something to do with _protecting_ her as well.

However noble these two men may seem to be, Lois just wants _reality_. No more falsity. No more ruses. Just truth that she can feel and see. And reality is something that they refuse to offer her.

She sees Clark swallow and sighs heavily. Then, with a blur of blue and red, Bruce and Clark are gone, leaving the room empty. A draft is blowing through the open window, ruffling the curtains.

Usually, she keeps it unlocked out of some vain hope that Clark will return to her. But now, she locks it for the first time since she has occupied the apartment. Tonight, she doesn't need or want him. She just wants to be alone with herself and sleep and reality. No more lies.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: So i'm still really busy... i haven't been able to add more chapters to the third book at all this week. sorry about typos!**


	64. Chapter Thirty - Pieces

_CHAPTER THIRTY - PIECES_

The next day, Lois returns home from work, feeling exhausted. And contrary to what is expected, her exhaustion does not derive from her job - she _still_ feels drained from her recent encounter with Bruce and Clark.

As she swings open the door of her apartment, half-expecting them both to be awaiting her inside yet again, she continues to muse about how _unbelievable_ both men are.

There's Bruce… who apparently feels obligated to dress like a bat and prance around Gotham like a demon incarnate. And jeez...what _compels_ someone to do that, she wonders? To wage such a small, unimposing war against the worst humanity has to offer? The danger he must experience on a daily basis is...innumerable. She is reasonably certain that he has no powers with which to protect himself. Thus, his only advantages are, if the reports are true, his wits, his gadgets, and his theatricality. Only a madman would take on the world with so little on which to rely.

So is he mad? It's hard to believe that he is anything else, given what-what he does in the dead of night.

Oh, if _only_ the tabloids truly knew what Bruce Wayne's nocturnal activities are.

And then… there's Clark. The same Clark who still inadvertently holds Lois's heart. The Clark that, according to Bruce, is still very much in love with her, despite the breakup he perpetrated between himself and Lois.

In all honesty, she has seethed and mused far more about _that_ fact than she has about Bruce's secret identity. She just… God, what is wrong with Clark? Is he so determined to break her heart that he is willing to cause himself misery too?

Nothing makes sense. Which, she supposes, _ironically_ makes sense, considering that these are _men_ that she is dealing with, and logic seems to escape them at every opportunity.

Lois plops down on the couch and brings out her laptop, prepared to research a story for an upcoming deadline. For some background noise, she switches on the television, which displays the local news.

Right now, she just doesn't know where she stands. Nowadays, it seems like she doesn't know Bruce, and perhaps she knows Clark (or his intentions, at least) even less. So...that's two friends she has lost in a remarkably short period.

"_This just in_," Lois hears the newscaster say. "_Lexcorp has reported that a quantity of radioactive substance has been stolen from a company storage facility. And according to this footage… the thief is no other than Gotham's Batman. Take a look_!"

Lois's stare flies upwards toward the television in surprise. And sure enough, on the screen, is footage of Bruce - Batman - breaking into the Lexcorp warehouse. But oddly enough, she does not appear, nor does Superman. But Clark and Bruce both said that they were unable to retrieve the kryptonite - that it is still into Lex's possession. But perhaps not?

"_No one is sure why the Batman would want such a material or how this vigilante went uncaught by the Man of Steel, but Lexcorp scientists have assured the public that the substance is not dangerous to human health, and thus, there is nothing to worry about._ _Regardless, the authorities are working hard to ensure that the Batman is brought to justice._"

Why would Lex claim that Batman stole the Kryptonite… when it was never stolen at all? And further, why would he claim that Clark never interfered with the robbery?

Another newscaster continues, "_In other news, Lexcorp CEO Lex Luthor is trying to make final amends with Wayne Enterprises. This morning, the billionaire announced that he would settle the one billion dollar patent lawsuit with WayneTech...in addition to signing a contract that restricts further production of any of the patented project. Luthor had this to say..._"

Suddenly, Lex appears on-screen, standing at a podium - though it cannot be a press conference. Not a formal one, anyway. Otherwise, she would have been invited. He probably privately filmed his statement before sending it to the networks.

"_Previously, I was led to believe that WayneTech was making unfounded claims to Lexcorp original designs. But I recently learned that I was deceived by several of my developers, who had stolen the designs - without my knowledge - from Waynetech engineers. My developers, it was soon revealed, had no true understanding of these prosthetics, and were completely unable to develop them. But rats, as you can see, are unable to hide under my nose for long."_

Lois figures that the last statement is the only true one. It takes a rat to know a rat.

_Lex _continues_: "Please know that I am disgusted by the few Lexcorp employees involved in this. They have been promptly fired…and thus, I am glad that we were able to resolve the issue before it grew or caused real harm. Additionally, I am humbled by the patience and perseverance of the WayneTech workers who tirelessly defended their creations against the greedy minds who sought to sully both of our companies' reputations. The settlement amount will thus be paid immediately, and from this point forward, Lexcorp will never touch those prosthetics again. Thank you._"

Lois sits, stunned at these uncharacteristic actions from Lex. Lex, reporting a robbery that never really happened. Lex, complimenting Waynetech and agreeing to its terms.

What is he up to now?

* * *

Two nights later, Clark spots an armored car on the Metropolis freeway - a car that is clearly encountering a bit of trouble as it approaches a destination. A group of masked men are swarming around it, reminiscent of ants near a picnic basket. From his current position, Clark can see that the vehicle's back door has been melted off at its hinges. That door now rests in the street, the scrawl of the words "First National Bank" glinting on its surface.

It is very late; perhaps around three in the morning, so the number of commuters on the road has dwindled. Thus, these robbers appear to be making an easy steal of the car's contents, which is apparently wads of cash that they greedily remove before Clark's eyes.

It is not long before Clark (as Superman) reaches their little group and lands. At first, they do not see him - they are so focused on their current task. So he clears his throat and remarks, "You know, what they say is true. Money doesn't buy happiness."

Immediately, the robbers jump and spin toward Clark, guns unsheathed and aimed at his chest. In all honesty, the display of force is somewhat laughable - almost everyone knows who he is, and the effect (or lack thereof) that bullets have on him. If they were smart, they would have already surrendered.

"In fact, money like _that_ will only buy you prison time," Clark continues with barely suppressed amusement. "So I'll give you a chance to return what you've stolen and surrender. But mind yourselves… you're only going to get _one_ chance."

He raises his index finger to further emphasize the point. Frozen, the men stare silently at him, their guns still raised.

"This money is ours!" one of them yells finally. "And you can't stop us!"

"Guns don't exactly slow me down, if you haven't heard," Clark replies with an exasperated sigh as he places his hands on his hips.

"You're right - they don't," another robber says as he reaches into his pockets. Clark assumes that he is returning some of the cash, but a few seconds later, he is surprised to hear a booming sound in the distance.

Clark spins around, his cape sweeping about him in a wide arc. Unfortunately, he is greeted by the sight of a nearby overpass being riddled with various explosions - little clouds of orange and red, popping up like blooming flowers of smoke and flame. The bridge immediately begins to destabilize, and Clark will have to attend to it immediately to prevent the few cars on its surface from being destroyed-

As he zooms off in its direction, he hears the robber - the last one that spoke - add: "But saving people definitely slows you down, big blue!"

His tone is gloating and knowing, which means that there must have been some sort of detonator in the robber's pocket. The explosions, the potential loss of life… Clark cannot fathom how they can sleep at night. What compels someone to cause carnage for something as trivial as money?

It takes an excess of speed, strength, and heat vision to weld the overpass back together. But even as he undertakes the repairs over the course of a few minutes, he knows that those robbers must be long gone with their bounty.

Once he is confident in the stability of the structure, he flies back toward his previous location, expecting to find clues pertaining to the criminals that have long since escaped. But to his ultimate surprise, he finds the robbers - all of them - unconscious and tied up with thick black wire. Their masks are removed, and all of their weapons (guns, knives, explosives) are tossed into a pile on the pavement. Every dollar is present as well, having recently been returned the back of the truck.

Despite its stealth features, he can also see that a reinforced black car has pulled up to the scene, parked with lights turned off. It is unlike any vehicle that he has ever seen - with engines that Clark, with his newfound scientific knowledge, knows can reach ludicrous speeds, and defense systems that are far beyond those of any regular cars.

"Quit trying to sneak up on me," Superman says impatiently, his ears detecting the faint sound of footsteps behind him. "It's not going to work."

He turns around to see the Batman standing stiffly in the darkness. His cape is draped around him, and his previously damaged mask has been replaced with an identical one.

"I figured you needed help," he grunts in a voice far deeper than Bruce Wayne (in his normal persona) has ever used. "And this scum was about to get away."

Quickly, Clark grabs all the robbers and deposits them at a nearby police station. By the time he returns to the scene, he is surprised to see the Batman is still there waiting for him. Not exactly casually, but not exactly defensively either.

Clark nods curtly. "I'll admit - they caught me off guard. So your help is appreciated. But… that doesn't mean that I want you to stick around Metropolis. You set a bad example."

"A bad example?" the Batman, Bruce, repeats.

"I don't want people taking the law into their own hands."

"That's what _you_ do."

"I take great care to avoid hurting people. You don't. That's why my activities are government sanctioned, and yours are not."

"You're not afraid of my example for the populace," Bruce says quietly, "You're afraid that I'll badly influence you-know-who. Are you scared that she might acquire her _own_ cape?"

Her. Lois. Bruce has already brought Lois into the conversation, which, in all honesty, is a topic of which Clark desperately wants to steer clear.

Slowly, Clark replies, "Maybe. I wouldn't put it past her."

"She already does what I do. Just not with her fists."

"I know."

"She makes a lot of enemies," Bruce remarks offhandedly, his tone ominous. "Dangerous ones."

"I know," Clark repeats again, suspicion growing within him.

"You never know when one might try to get revenge on her."

Suddenly, Clark grabs Bruce by outer fabric of his armor and uses his grip to lift the other man off the ground. He feels his own eyes flare red - not enough to actually set anything on fire, but enough to...well… _scare_ the so-called terrifying Batman. Or so he hopes. Clark doesn't do _scary_ very well.

"What do you want? What _exactly_ are you implying?" Clark grits out. "Are you so low that you'd threaten-"

"I _wasn't_ threatening her," Bruce snarls. "I was making a point - _because_ I care about her. So put me down - now."

Realizing how aggressive his most recent behavior was, Clark quickly drops Bruce and takes a large step backwards. Guilt burns at the pit of his stomach… an addition to all that is already there. Bruce hasn't done anything truly wrong to him… except lie, but then again, Clark never even _spoke_ to him until a few nights ago, so did Bruce even have the opportunity to truly lie to Clark? He hardly knows him. So what right does Clark have to be so belligerent toward him?

Feeling guilty for intimidating the Batman? Lois would have laughed at the irony, Clark thinks.

"I'm not one for talking, but I think we need to have a conversation," Bruce says, smoothing out the fabric of his costume. "You've probably heard that Lois and I dated once. Years ago."

Clark nods yet again - the motion still curt. He is rather disinclined to hear about Lois's past relationships, especially since her faux romance with Bruce made Clark realize the extent of his own jealous nature.

"It was long before she met you - but she was largely the same as she is now. Maybe even more headstrong, if possible. Our relationship ended shortly after she exposed a Ponzi and embezzling scheme by a Wayne Enterprises board member."

Clark raises an eyebrow. In his opinion, that seems like a silly reason to end a relationship (not that he is complaining). But if this board member was truly doing something wrong, why shouldn't Lois have exposed him?

"That board member was so meticulous that his activities even escaped _my_ notice. And once she revealed everything he did, he was livid - demeaned and bound for jail. So he tried to have her killed."

Clark blinks. "She never mentioned-"

"That's because she never knew," Bruce interrupts. "She was staying in Gotham at the time, and for several nights in a row, he had her followed. I prolonged our already doomed relationship so I could stop them in secret, which I did. And eventually, he went to jail and his assets were seized. Thus, she was no longer hunted, and we were able to end it between us."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Lois Lane is going to make enemies no matter what," Bruce emphasizes. "That's what she does. It's her job. Just as it's mine, and just as it's yours. And it's better if someone's _there for her_ when the situation becomes dangerous. Someone like you."

Clark squints at him, as if trying to x-ray him. But in reality, he is simply trying to fathom this strange man standing before him. This man who seems to know far too much about too many things that _should_ be kept secret. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The reason I broke up with her. That I wanted to protect her."

"You nearly tore me to pieces in that warehouse," Bruce reminds him impatiently. "And you were so convinced that I was using her to get to you. Clearly, you're insecure about your ability to ensure her safety."

"Of course I am. Because she's _not_ the only one that has enemies. I do as well… and mine, a lot of the time, operate on a different plane than the common criminal. Like a magnet, I draw in an _enhanced_ sort of danger, and if she's there when it comes for me…" Clark trails off.

"I have a partner in Gotham," Bruce continues. "It's not the same, of course, but it's relevant. He's my adopted son… an orphan, like myself. And years ago, he - a child - asked if he could fight crime with me. The idea, at first, seemed not only ridiculous, but _suicidal_ for the both of us. He would get killed, or I would get killed trying to protect him. I was sure of it.

"But he was _gifted_. Passionate about it. And while being Batman started out as an obsession for me - a vow more for my own catharsis than anything else - working with him taught me that the Batman is a force for the greater good above all else. Batman and Robin accomplished far more as a team than I did on my own. And… he made me a better person. That I'm sure of more than anything."

"Don't your enemies ever target him?" Clark asks.

"Yes," Bruce says solemnly. "But he's also saved my life. And I've saved his. So the benefits outweigh the detriments."

For several moments, they stop speaking, scrutinizing each other. Bruce's gaze is expectant, while Clark's is bordering on incredulous.

"God," Clark mumbles finally as he shakes his head in disbelief, "You're the strangest relationship counselor I've ever met…'

"I know you love her. And she loves you," Bruce emphasizes, ignoring the previous comment. "You shouldn't underestimate the power of two people who work well together. Especially when you have enemies like you both do. If Luthor comes after you… you can count on her more than any other. And she can count on you, I assume?"

"Until the end of time," Clark vows, perhaps more intensely than he even meant to do so. "But why do you care?"

"The world needs Superman. And it needs Lois Lane," Bruce - Batman - tells him seriously. "Statistically, unhappy people have shorter lifespans. Correct me if I'm wrong, but neither of you has seemed very happy lately."

With that, the Batman walks away, approaching the black vehicle parked on the side of the road. Clark watches as its top opens and Bruce promptly jumps inside. It is only seconds before the car (he thinks the people in Gotham call it a _batmobile_) zooms off with a roar.

* * *

"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne?" a stewardess on Bruce's private jet says, breaking his concentration on a copy of the Daily Planet. "Apparently our takeoff will have to be delayed."

Bruce's eyes flicker upward, their gaze as sharp as a pair of icicles. He folds the newspaper and raises his brows, suggesting how little patience he has for incompetence today. "For the amount of money I pay you people, this delay better not last more than several seconds."

"Sir...normal procedures just don't apply in this instance. There's a woman standing in the middle of the runway, and we've tried to remove her, but she won't-"

"A woman?" Bruce repeats. "What does she look like?"

The stewardess gives him a disdainful look - one that displays her limited faith in Bruce Wayne's self-control around women of any sort. She probably thinks that his interest is motivated by the vain hope that he might get laid by some crazy lady on the runway.

"She has dark hair. Medium height. Pretty, I suppose. But her attractiveness is very much ruined by her aggressive demands to see you."

"She wants to see me?"

"Yes. And she keeps waving around a press pass, claiming that her rights as a journalist are being violated by our attempts to remove her-"

Without a doubt, Bruce now knows the identity of this woman. Her described behavior seals his suspicions, it is so predictable from her. But… her willingness to speak with him after recent events… well, that _is_ rather unpredictable. She has never been the forgiving type, and he would hardly expect her to get over her mistrust so soon.

Certain that he is about to receive some sort of severe admonishment, Bruce lets out an uneasy sigh, stands, and walks toward the side door of the private plane. "You have my permission to delay takeoff. I'll deal with this."

"Yes, sir. What kind of private jet would we be if we left without you?"

"The kind that runs on schedule for once," Bruce mutters as he exits the plane. It is always disheartening to realize that, no matter how hard he tries, he will always be held up by _some_ catastrophe.

And this time, when Bruce strolls outside and sees the situation on the runway, he realizes that this particular catastrophe has a name - Lois Lane.

The co-pilot and an airport security guard surround her, their body language screaming irritation as they stand upon the pavement. Their hands clutch their hips, and their muscles are tense with barely contained fury.

Lois's disposition, meanwhile, is really no different if not worse. Her finger is pointed accusingly at the co-pilot as she proceeds to yell at him, and as Bruce approaches the group, her words get clearer.

"It's not like I don't know him! For Christ's sake, we've dated twice! Sort of. But that's really none of your business anyway, so I digress. The real point is... he owes me a few words. I'm sure if you told him that I'm here-"

"Mr. Wayne doesn't have the time _or_ the patience for reporters like you," the co-pilot argues patronizingly. "We have a schedule to keep, and we _will_ have you arrested if necessary."

Finished with observing quietly, Bruce startles the entire party by interrupting, "Well, it won't be necessary, gentlemen. She's right. This woman and I need to speak to one another."

The co-pilot and the burly security guard exchange glances, a mixture of skepticism and vexation in their expressions. Like the stewardess, they figure that all of Bruce's actions are motivated by vanity or lust, and thus judge him for traits that are nothing but the facets of a necessary facade.

"Return to your jobs. I won't be long," Bruce adds in a commanding voice.

Slowly, the co-pilot and security guard remove themselves from Lois's presence. As they depart, they shoot Lois dirty looks over their shoulders. Lois notices this, of course, and flips them the bird. She holds it for several seconds, taunting them, before Bruce steps in front of her so that the rude gesture can no longer be seen.

Eventually, they are left alone on the runway. And their postures, unlike those of the co-pilot and security personnel, are very awkward - guarded, even. In fact, Bruce feels rather _naked_ at the current moment, since all of his secrets have been laid bare for her. Almost all of them, anyway. There's a certain power in secrets, and when they're all revealed, vulnerability reigns supreme. So that's how Bruce would describe his current state - vulnerable. And it seems like she feels similarly.

For Lois…. well, he not only admitted to knowing all of her secrets, but he also proceeded to meddle with her romantic life. His suggestions about Superman's - Clark's - true feelings more than a little unwarranted. They were most certainly intrusive.

Truly, she has so many reasons to be _furious_ at him. But he sees no anger in her eyes, no enraged arch in her eyebrows.

"I called your hotel," Lois begins, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. A jacket is pulled tightly around her, like armor on a soldier. "But they said you checked out. Left."

Bruce nods brusquely. "I did."

"Why?"

"I figured it was time to go back to Gotham," he tells her, shrugging. "I have no excuse to be here. The lawsuit has been settled. Bruce Wayne has achieved his goal."

"Your excuse can be that you're seeing your girlfriend. The world still thinks we're dating, you know."

"True… but I think it's best if everyone stopped believing that. You'll have a different boyfriend soon enough, and I don't want to stand in the way."

"What d'you mean? What boyfriend?"

Bruce just shoots her a look that says "_Really?"_

"If you mean Clark, I'm not holding my breath," she informs him defensively, "I doubt he cares as much as you think he does."

Bruce refuses to comment on that subject further.

Scoffing at his skeptical expression, Lois takes a step toward him. "And what about the Batman? Did _he_ achieve his goal? Luthor is still walking free-"

"I'm aware," he replies, his eyes colder than ever as he remembers the death of Graham Templeton. "Luthor certainly has not suffered enough for the lives he has ruined-"

"Got that right!" Lois snarls.

"-But it's been a week now," Bruce continues. "His assistant has disappeared yet again, and we lack leads on the location of Dr. Vale's work. Meanwhile, Luthor has somehow scrubbed his past clean for his campaign. What are we supposed to do, Lois? He maneuvered right around us, and I can't keep lurking around. He'll get skeptical."

"It can't be over this easily, Bruce. We were so close. And all this stuff he's doing - settling the lawsuit, promising not to touch the prosthetics, blaming you for the theft of the kryptonite, campaigning for mayor - I've got a such a bad feeling about it. We _have_ to stop him."

"I agree - it's all very suspicious."

"Did you hear that Vale disappeared?" she asks offhandedly. "He never showed up for work at MetU. Do you think he's dead? Or maybe he's continuing the development of the prosthetics, and we can catch them-"

"Lex knew that we were onto him. Or… he knew that _the_ _Batman_ was onto him. Whatever he was planning, I think he has probably given it up to preserve his reputation," Bruce speculates.

"Lex never gives up," Lois tells him darkly. "And the Batman isn't supposed to give up either."

"I'm not giving up," Bruce assures her calmly. "But I belong in Gotham. And now that Superman knows what he's up against-"

"Lex knows all of Clark's weaknesses, though! That's why I need you here! I need your help-"

Though she is not exactly furious, she clearly feels betrayed. Like she is being abandoned. But she is wrong if she thinks that Bruce does not worry about Lex's plans for Metropolis… or for Superman… or for Lois.

Stricken with an idea, Bruce fishes around his pockets until he finds what he is looking for - a small, black phone-like device. He extends it to her.

She eyes it with confusion. "What's that?"

"A communicator."

"I have a cell phone, you know. Most people do, in fact."

He rolls his eyes at her. "The government and other parties surveil regular cell phones. This is special - totally private satellite connection. In fact, it's something that I reserve for my allies. Dick, Alfred, and I - we all have one. That way, if one of us gets into trouble, we're notified."

"Oh good. So if I'm dying, I can call you - Mr. Emotionless - for one last scintillating conversation," she remarks sarcastically.

"It also has a tracker," he explains impatiently. "So I can find you. This one's mine, but I can have another made."

"No offense, but if I'm in trouble, I'm probably gonna call Superman."

"Well, if the boy scout is ever unavailable…"

"Like if Luthor attacks-"

"Then I'm the one to call. I can be in Metropolis in half an hour so long as I'm not held up by something else. So don't lose this - you never know when you might need it."

Nodding slowly, she finally takes it from him and stores the little device in her purse. From there, she looks up at him with mocking irritation. "I can't believe you were going to leave without saying goodbye."

"I thought you'd refuse to talk to me after everything," he replies. "Leaving seemed like the best thing for you."

"Men," she hisses, saying the word like a curse. "Why does your gender always think that it's best to lie to or leave the women in your lives? Newsflash: It's actually _cowardly_."

"If you're comparing me to _him_, you should remember that he's not even human - so he doesn't even count as a male."

"Trust me," she says almost wistfully. "He's a human male - if not better - in all the ways that count."

"And I _really_ don't need to hear that," Bruce retorts. "In regard to our original subject… the truth is that, if I were you, I'd be angry. Too angry to forgive me so soon."

Shaking her head, she argues: "I'm not stupid. You had people you needed to protect. You know, even _I've _bent the truth for greater causes before. Plus, I've gotten kind of accustomed to having you as a friend. Would it be too sentimental for me to ask you to visit Metropolis again soon?"

This time, Bruce commits - finally - to a full smirk. "The tabloids would have another field day."

"The world will just have to accept that we're friends. I like us better that way, anyway."

"So do I. Dating you was…" Bruce shudders exaggeratedly. "Let's just say that I do not envy your future boyfriends."

"And I'll make sure to warn all of your future girlfriends about _your_ awful dating skills," Lois rejoins.

"You can do that the next time you come to Gotham," Bruce tells her. "Which I also hope will be soon. Dick has been dying to meet you again."

"If only Gotham's criminal underworld knew just how big of a _softie_ their big bad Batman is," Lois jokes.

"Speaking of Gotham," Bruce says, glancing back at the plane and beginning to backtrack toward it. "I really should get going. I want to get back before nightfall."

"Of course you do."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**A/N: I'm a day late. I'm sorry! So, so busy. I might have to do a month/few month hiatus between the end of this book and the next one... you might get angry but it's better than leaving the third book in the middle, which would -trust me - greatly upset you. **

**Hopefully, I'll find some free time soon, and that won't have to happen. But I just want to give you fair warning. **

**Also, I got a tumblr question from Heart of the Demons asking how I get to my characters' emotional cores. I'd rather answer here ****right now (but not always) ****because if I answer on tumblr lots of my followers will start asking questions that I don't really have time to address. **

**In all honesty, I've just read so many comics (see my reclist on tumblr if you want to know how much) and seen so many tv shows/movies starring the characters that I feel like I understand them pretty well. Not only that, but I try to understand and display how _people_, in general, might act in the situations I present to them. Sometimes fics have characters who act somewhat inhumanly, or act too rationally and fail to make mistakes. One of the worst problems I see people make in fics is that emotions are too general or vague (just saying someone is "angry" isn't enough). Emotions play into everything, so I emphasize and _describe_ that in their characterization. It's a bit hard to explain but I guess character personalities need to be well developed and unique, so I work hard to make them that way. **

**Gotta go! Lots of work. **


	65. Chapter Thirty-One - Mercy

_CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - MERCY_

"What if she doesn't understand? What if she tells me to get lost for being so stupid? God… I don't know what I'm doing," Clark agonizes as he paces around the fortress, speaking to the recently finished robot of himself. And though it is not a person, it looks like one, so at least it _feels_ like he is talking to someone.

Though it is rather disconcerting to talk to someone who appears identical to himself. If he did not know better, or did not have enhanced vision, Clark might have believed that there is a mirror in front of him. Both are currently dressed as Superman, with the red cape and blue uniform perfectly pressed. Their hair is styled in the exact same fashion, with the spit curl falling in the exact same tendril. It is even mimicking Clark's anguished expression… and doing so quite well, even.

Now that he has completed the robot, it can fulfill basic or complex functions, all while running so efficiently that any other cybernetic expert would be envious. But its language skills are still somewhat lacking. In fact, its sentences are random strings of words that cannot be deciphered. Which is why Clark soon sees a splitting image of himself respond:

"Duck- train, squatting..._up _excitably WALL."

Clark sighs. _God_, who is he kidding? He is having a one-sided conversation with a robot. End of story.

Though he can admit that the serious expression on his robot double's face makes its sentences all the more comical.

Ever since talking to Bruce, Clark has considered rekindling his relationship with Lois. He made such convincing points - the idea that Lois has enemies of her own, and that he and Lois always worked more effectively as a team than they do alone. The latter part is especially true. He used to think devoting less time to his personal life and more time to Superman would improve his superheroics. And though he addresses more disasters daily...without Lois covering the events and gathering evidence, fewer and fewer of the involved criminals end up _staying_ in jail. This is not to mention that both of their recent articles have been inferior compared to past works - Perry has pointed that out several times.

Plus, watching her supposedly date Bruce was unbearable, and realizing that their romance was fake made Clark feel like he had dodged a bullet - a _kryptonite_ bullet, in fact. He has not moved on - will probably _never_ move on. And he doesn't think if he can _watch_ her move on either. Sure, he can run away, move to a different city and start anew. But she occupies his thoughts far too much, and his senses always seek her out from a distance. Even inadvertently, he will be exposed to her happy new life - a life without him.

And what about if _she_ doesn't move on? Bruce did say that "_statistically, unhappy people have shorter lifespans." _And Clark _did_ see her drinking that night. Though he does not believe that sort of behavior will become habitual from her, it may evidence a lack of concern for herself. Clark has experienced something similar - he has cut himself off from human contact, wallowing in misery within the fortress. He is less sympathetic than he used to be as Superman… helping people no longer fills him with the intense joy that it used to, though it is a boon for a small part of his unhappiness. But he still feels like he has forgotten how to be a proper _person_.

And what exactly has he accomplished in terms of her safety? No one targets her to get to Superman, sure. But she was still nearly killed during the night in the warehouse. And because she did not tell him her location, he very well could have arrived too late. At least when they were together, they could count on each other at all times. Nowadays, they are lucky to know anything about the other's location.

What if they were just more careful when he is in costume? Could it work then? By now, the world hardly believes that Superman and Lois Lane are a couple. Everyone has lost interest in that. Could this be the perfect opportunity to start things anew?

"If she says no..." Clark muses slowly to the robot. "It's not like things can get worse than they are now. She never talks to me as it is - not while we're like this, anyway. So what do I have to lose?"

"Gargoyle," the robot replies simply.

Clark rubs his temples, fuming about the lack of _normalcy_ in his life. For anyone else, this dilemma would not be an issue. He could be with the woman he loves without a problem. But for some reason, being _Superman_ means that his personal issues become _super-complicated_.

And normal people also don't use robots for confidants.

* * *

Lois's meeting with Bruce put her behind schedule on her deadline. So now, she sits in her office, clacking away at a story that needs to be finished in…

She looks at the clock on her computer screen. Five minutes? Christ, she better _hurry_.

The clacking becomes more frantic as she squeezes word after word onto the digital page. She works so rapidly the word processor's little, black vertical line hardly has the opportunity to blink _once_ throughout it all. Unfortunately, she figures that she will not have the time to spell-check, but then again, since when has spell checking ever helped her? She is a hopeless case in that department, as she is constantly informed by her co-workers.

Finally, with the last sentence at a close, she briefly skims her previous lines. As far as she can tell with such a cursory glance, the article looks good to go. So she sends it to Perry, who will hopefully correct her typos that she could not.

Relieved that she actually finished the story on time, Lois leans back in her chair and stretches her arms. She has never missed a deadline. _Never_. In fact...today was as close as she has ever come to missing one. But her life has been so hectic lately that her negligence is rather understandable.

Suddenly, she hears a knock at her door. Lois figures that it's probably Cat, who is most likely incredulous at the newest so-called "disaster" in Lois's romantic life. Bruce leaked to the press that his relationship with Lois is nothing but a memory from this point forward. (Though he did mention, in a move of unexpected sweetness, that Bruce intends to maintain his friendship with her, so the paparazzi should not jump to conclusions if they are seen together). Cat is probably livid that the couple she set up has fallen apart, and intends to criticize Lois for losing such a prime catch.

"Come in!" Lois calls, confident that she can calm Cat, if necessary.

But instead of Cat, Lois is stunned to see Clark - clad in his glasses, bulky suit, and rimmed hat - shuffle into the room rather awkwardly. Clutched in his hands are two disposable cups, the mingling aromas of hot chocolate and coffee emanating from their contents.

"Uh, hi," he greets somewhat uneasily.

"Hey," she returns, confusion in her voice. Why would he want to speak to her right now? Is there some sort of emergency? A story they need to work on? Thus, with concern, she proceeds to ask: "Is everything alright?"

He doesn't answer the question. Instead, he says, "Do you mind if I come in? I brought coffee. The kind from that place in Glenmorgan Square that you like."

As delicious as the other drink smells, Lois points tentatively to an identical cup resting on her own desk. Both coffees are indeed from her cafe, but this morning, she bought her own. She has long since stopped expecting him to buy her coffee in the mornings.

"For my health's sake, I really shouldn't have more than one, Smallville. The amount of sugar in these things…"

Even through the shadows cast by his hat and glasses, Lois can see how crestfallen his expression becomes. "Oh. Okay...well, I'll see if someone else wants it, I guess."

He begins to turn back toward the door, making Lois wonder whether giving her coffee was his only intention. But then, before he actually steps out, he hesitates - conflict overtaking him. It takes several seconds, but eventually, he pulls the door shut so that they are enclosed in the privacy of her office.

Spinning around to face Lois yet again, Clark asks: "Can we talk?"

Lois raises an eyebrow, not quite understanding his meaning. "We _are_ talking. Hence the words coming out of our mouths."

Clark chuckles a bit nervously at that. "Thanks, yeah, I figured as much. But when I say talk… I mean… talk about _us_...about what happened."

Lois is rather stunned. When Bruce said that Clark might try to make amends, she did not believe him. But now...with this plea...with this apparent attempt to resume their old routine… she cannot rule out the possibility that Clark is changing his mind.

She is stricken by the intense desire to scream yes - to lay her frustrations bare for him to see and understand. But then remembers something that Bruce wrote to her on a fake card, before their investigation started.

"I'_d bet millions that Lex has some sort of listening device or spy at the Planet. And if he doesn't have one yet, he probably will soon._"

If that is true, Lois doesn't want Lex to eavesdrop on the words she will exchange with Clark.

"Now?" Lois asks in a voice that is far more nervous than she intended. "You want to talk here? At this very moment?"

"Well...yes?" Clark answers almost bashfully. He must mistake her nervousness for a dislike for him, because he retracts by saying, "Unless you don't want to, of course. In that case, I'll just… I'll just go-"

He approaches the door again, but Lois stops him by calling out: "No! I want to talk. Really. Just...can we wait? Everyone here gossips so much… and lunch is only a few hours away."

"You want to talk at lunchtime?"

"Yes," she tells him seriously. "I do. That place that serves the veggie burgers you like - it just reopened after renovations. We can go-"

Suddenly, Lois's phone rings shrilly, interrupting their albeit awkward attempts to make a...is it a date? Or just a casual meeting between two exes that are allegedly still in love with each other? Somehow she doubts that the latter situation even exists.

She looks at the caller - Bruce. Who should be in Gotham by now. Without taking her eyes off Clark, she answers the call.

"Hello?"

"_You know that car I was tracking by its license plate?_" Bruce begins, his voice rushed and serious. "_A camera just caught it on film. I figured the boy scout would want to check it out. Lex's assistant might be out and about again._"

"She's back?"

After hearing those words, Clark's posture immediately straightens, and it appears as if he has begun to eavesdrop on the phone conversation. But in this instance, Lois does not mind. He has a right to hear this as much as she does.

"_Maybe. Maybe not. But if the cameras are any indication, she has been running quite a few errands. Last place she visited was an abandoned lab - Met Gen Diagnostics. I suggest you two get there… and fast."_

"Both of us?" Clark questions, evidently hearing Bruce's words. "No way-"

"Of course, both of us!" Lois counters, and she hears Bruce sigh with exasperation over the other line, evidencing his disinclination to listen to their argument. "There might be evidence necessary for the story-"

"Lois, I'm also a reporter, and I'm perfectly capable of writing the story by myself-"

"What, and let my _months_ of work go down the crapper as you steal my byline? Not happening, Smallville. We're both going."

"Superman and Lois Lane shouldn't be seen together. You might end up-"

"-playing _America's Next Top Hostage?_" Lois finishes for him. "Nothing I haven't handled before. But if you're so worried, we'll go as Lois and Clark, Daily Planet reporters."

"And if there's trouble?" he says.

"If there's trouble, you change into Superman and fly us out."

Clark seems unconvinced, if not fearful.

"It's just Lex's assistant - one, normal, human woman. There's nothing to be afraid of," she assures him. Then, she lowers her brows and declares: "I'm not going to budge on this one, Clark. I'm going. If it wasn't for my discovery of that license plate, we wouldn't have a lead at all."

Silence. Then, Clark finally mumbles, "Knowing you...it's pretty clear that normal, human women are _plenty_ to be afraid of."

Lois takes that as his concession. They are going _together. _End of story.

"_Not that this melodramatic argument isn't interesting or anything_," Bruce interjects impatiently (Lois has nearly forgotten that he was on the phone with her), "_But I have a board meeting to attend. If something comes up that you can't handle, you have my communicator_."

Lois reaches into her nearby purse and fingers the small, black device to ensure that it is still there.

Meanwhile, Bruce doesn't even say goodbye. He simply hangs up the phone.

* * *

Clark and Lois take a cab to Bakerline, which is where the laboratory is located. Clark offers to fly them there, but Lois knows that would be too quick and difficult to explain. After all, Lois and Clark are supposed to come from the Daily Planet, which means that their trip should be traceable.

Plus, Clark would have to deal with the tricky issue of changing in and out of costume without being seen. Thus, a cab ride, overall, is just the better option.

Like old times, they spend the trip speaking strategy - the best ways to corner Lex's assistant, who to give the evidence to afterward, methods to ensure that law enforcement cooperates despite bribes. When the taxi finally stops, they argue over who pays (like they used to) until Clark uses superspeed to swipe his credit card before she can. Her anger this time, on the other hand, is very limited considering that she finds this old sort of behavior rather endearing.

The taxi takes off, and Lois and Clark stand in front of the former laboratory. Its sign reads (as Bruce described) "_Met General Diagnostics_," but it has rusted and faded to the point where the letters are hardly legible. Metropolis General Hospital moved its blood work labs into a facility closer to the main hospital a long time ago… so she wonders how this place has been abandoned.

Abandoned before Lex took it over, that is.

"Shall we?" Clark says, gesturing to the building. Then, they both approach the entrance - a set of metal doors at the front. When they try to open them, they are all completely unlocked. It's an unsettling discovery to say the least, but if Lex's assistant is running errands so frantically, she may have become negligent during her activities.

A shared glance between Lois and Clark still relays the same message - _be cautious._

Upon entering, they immediately see someone standing in the middle of the room. It is a figure clad in a dark brown, long overcoat, and wearing a black hat over the top of its downcast head.

Though the figure appears unarmed and alone, Lois and Clark are taken aback. They never expected a confrontation this immediate...or easy. Too easy. But can they afford to pass up an opportunity to speak to this person, who could very well be the woman who harbors most of Lex's greatest secrets?

No. They can't. They have to do this.

Thus, Lois and Clark glance at each other yet again, then proceed forward. They walk closely together, their hands brushing ever so slightly at they continue - almost as if they are holding hands, but not quite. This gesture, however small, fills Lois with unexpected bravery.

As she gets closer, Lois can see the figure more clearly. This person is most definitely female, given the shape of her body. And though her eye colors are mostly indistinguishable, her features are stern yet feminine. But...there is something about this woman that is completely unfamiliar...something very concerning.

Scars. The woman - now identifiable as the assistant - is covered with scars. They tattoo every inch of invisible skin. Her hair is even gone - replaced by baldness and more scars. At the sight of them, Lois feels a surge of undeniable pity. What happened to her? These marks were not there a week ago… they must be fresh. New and painful.

"Lane...Kent…" the woman greets venomously. Her eyes are glued to Lois and Clark, and Lois is fearful to see… hatred within her gaze. "I've been waiting to speak with you two...for a _very_ long time."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lois sees Clark stagger slightly beside her. "Lois," he gasps. "Something's - something's not right."

It is then that Lois sees the woman grin viciously. "And you're just figuring that out now? Some investigative reporters you two are."

That's when everything starts to change very quickly.

Lois hardly has time to react when, unexpectedly, the woman releases a yell and _leaps _at them. Clark seems to instinctively push Lois behind himself, and he receives the full blow of the assistant's weight. They topple to the ground, with Lois rolling out of their way just in time. She immediately rises to gape at them, surprised by this turn of events.

Though at the same time, it is not the first ambush she has experienced. Most of the time, reporters are either forced to spring traps or miss the big scoop. That is the choice she often has to make.

Amidst the grappling, Lois expects Clark to throw the woman off easily… in fact, she expects him to have her in jail within the next minute. It is likely that this woman had no idea that Clark is Superman, and thus, does not realize just _who_ she is trying to attack.

But Clark cannot manage to gain the upper hand. Instead, the assistant pins him to the ground, her knees on his throat as he chokes and groans in pain.

But Superman doesn't _feel_ pain. Not physical pain, anyway. At least...not unless...

Lois then realizes what Clark meant when he claimed that something was wrong. He must have felt sick, and only one substance can make him experience such a sensation…

There is kryptonite in the room.

Springing into action, Lois sprints toward the woman and proceeds to wrap her arms around her neck. She tries with all her might to pull the woman off of Clark, but for some reason...the assistant is incredibly heavy. Like a slab of solid steel in her weight. Though as far as Lois can tell, she is still very lithe.

"Get off of him!" Lois demands, still pulling away - unsuccessfully.

The woman laughs almost giddily as she sweeps a hand backward, and it meets its mark in the center of Lois's chest. The force that hits her is incredible - beyond that which any human can produce. It sends her flying backward, and she skids along the floor for an absurd amount of time. She only stops when she is a room away, hitting the far wall. The wind is knocked out of her so completely that she can do nothing but lie there, gasping pitifully, for several seconds.

"No!" Clark yells as the assistant watches her plight with obvious glee. Thus, in the distraction that Lois caused, Clark manages to kick the assistant off of himself, but it is clear that the movement weakens him significantly...as if he has expended the little energy that remained within him. He can barely sit up...barely move… but the assistant does not jump back on top of him. She merely stands, a twisted grin still glued to her face.

"Feeling a little green, Clark?" she asks with sadistic joy. "I guess Lex wasn't very careful with your secret around me. Or with his Kryptonite."

"K-Kryptonite?" Clark pants. "Where is...where is it?"

At that, the woman chuckles. Then, oddly enough, she proceeds to remove her hat… and her overcoat. Underneath is a rather minimal outfit - a cropped tank top and a pair of black shorts.

But the true purpose of the gesture is to reveal her skin, which is totally covered in scars. But some of them are odder than others. Because, at several inch intervals along her body, there are small beads of _glowing, radioactive_ Kryptonite embedded in the surface...like studs on a jacket. They might as well be large freckles, they are so abundant.

Finally able to regain her breath, Lois sits up and fearfully wonders, "What _happened_ to you?"

The woman briefly glances toward Lois to shoot her a glare. "You did."

"What?"

"_You_ did," the woman confirms furiously. Then she turns to Clark, glaring at him with equally hateful intensity. "And _he_ did. And Lex did. You all had a significant role in _ruining_ my life."

"We don't even know who you are!" Clark denies, trying to scoot away from her - the source of his radiation poisoning. If he can get enough distance...

"You do know me," Lois hears the woman mutter. "I've gone by a lot of names. Aliases are part of the job description for what I do. Things like Emma Crossby, Penelope Ross, _Kari Pope_ \- the last one you may recognize. That was the one I was using when we first met. But my real one is Mercy. Mercy Graves."

Still grinning sadistically, Mercy proceeds to take a step toward Clark, closing the small distance between him and the poisonous Kryptonite. "You won't get a lot of my first name from me tonight… But my last name? You'll both be lying in those soon enough."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS, CONCEPTS, ETC**

**A/N: No. Time. **

**Quickly, though: Basically I decided to combine Mercy Graves and Metallo, though with a few alterations even further. And finally, the Kari Pope mystery is sort of solved (you'll get more info in upcoming chapters). **

**You almost got Clois back! But darn... there's that _plot_ again... screwing everything up...**

**I still have no time to write (as you can tell by my first few sentences). The hiatus may become a very real thing.**

**Hope you enjoyed!**


	66. Chapter Thirty-Two - Grave(s)

_CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - GRAVE(S)_

Mercy moves with inhuman speed, appearing to blur as she grabs Clark by the collar. With him firmly in her grasp, Lois watches as she sprints toward the side of the room, dragging him along. Then...with a terrifying cracking sound, Clark is thrown face-first toward the wall. The force Mercy uses _shakes_ the whole building at impact, and Clark's pained cry may be one of the most horrifying noises Lois has ever heard.

Until Mercy strikes him again against the wall.

And again.

And again.

All in the span of a few milliseconds, it occurs - a personal tragedy on fast-forward. Lois does not even have time to protest, or to blink. Not until Mercy is decidedly finished. And then, with a weak moan, his body slackens and he sinks to his knees, her arms still suspending him slightly. He dangles toward the ground like...like…

Like a _corpse_.

His glasses have shattered into pieces and they fall to the floor with a clatter. It is that sound that causes Lois to stagger to her feet, yelling, "Don't! Stop it!" But she has no ultimatum to give this woman. No way to stop her. And the strength that Mercy has demonstrated..._Christ, _Lois is _so_ dead if she even raises a hand against her.

So what options does Lois have?

Suddenly, she remembers what Bruce told her - "_If something comes up that you can't handle, you have my communicator._" This most definitely qualifies as something that they can't handle. They never anticipated that the assistant would randomly develop _superpowers…_

Bruce will know what to do. Or how to help. Or at this point...just getting them both _out_ of here would be amazing.

But it will take a half-hour for Bruce to arrive. By then, they could both be dead.

Nonetheless, Lois feels for her purse at her side, only to find it missing. She locates it a few meters ahead of her, most likely thrown from her body when Mercy pushed her. Nearly skidding as she gains momentum, Lois sprints toward it - though her stealth abilities are clearly lacking. Mercy immediately sees her motion through peripheral vision, and spins around to glare at her with cold disdain.

"You want your turn, Lois?" she asks fiercely. "Fine."

Mercy releases Clark from her grip, and he falls face-down on the ground. He is hardly there for a few seconds before she kicks him. The violent attack knocks him onto his back, causing him to wheeze and cough rather heavily. Blood is pouring profusely from his nose, and his normally perfect features are uncharacteristically bruised and swollen.

It is clear that the kryptonite has weakened him enough to allow him to sustain serious injuries. Another blow, and he might very well die.

Lois is so distracted by his injured state that she fails to reach her purse before Mercy does. Instead, with Mercy's superhuman speed, they both arrive at its location at the same time. For a few seconds, they appraise one another. Lois can see that the glint in Mercy dark hazel eyes is menacing yet joyful at the same time - a disconcerting combination, especially considering what Mercy apparently intends to do to her and Clark. Meanwhile, Mercy's scars are quite gruesome up close - fresh-looking. But oddly...artificial. There is no redness to them, no veins visible. They might as well be pieces of waxen skin, glued together upon her body.

Still attempting to regain control of the situation, Lois lunges desperately for her purse...but Mercy beats her to it. Her last hope is extinguished as Mercy's foot stomps upon the bag.

Desperately, she pulls the bag out from under Mercy's feet, only to discover that most of its contents have shattered - including Bruce's communicator.

Lois slings the purse over her shoulder and is about to express her outrage when Mercy grabs her by the throat, lifting her above the ground. The compression of Mercy's grip on Lois's neck is utterly _crushing_ \- each finger pressing upon her skin with the force of a truck. Lois chokes and gasps helplessly as her own feet dangle below her. Striking out at Mercy does nothing except make the other woman laugh with vicious satisfaction. So Lois remains there, hanging above the ground as she suffocates by Mercy's hands.

"Reporters...always sticking their noses in the wrong things," Mercy muses. "I knew about your attempts to follow me ever since I found you at the warehouse - you could've only found that place if you were tracking me. And once I realized that, it was just too easy to lure you - and your superpowered beau - here."

Her lungs burn - and the flames are growing. Soon, her entire body feels like it is engulfed by flames. And like flames do, she needs oxygen. Needs it desperately… black smoke is enveloping her vision. Soon it will consume Lois completely...so she stares at Clark on the ground… his appearance weak and gory. Amidst it all, she hears him gurgle her name around the blood in his mouth. It is certainly not a beautiful sound… but it is one… one that she wants to… wants to take…

"I'd say: 'you'll think twice next time.' But unfortunately for you, there's not gonna be a 'next time.'"

Everything goes black.

* * *

"Lois?" a soft, hoarse voice whispers from above her.

Slowly, Lois squints her eyes open. It takes several seconds for her vision to focus - all the images before her blur into a mangled mess of rusty-brown colors.

But then she realizes that all of her surroundings actually _are_ rusty, brown, and gray in color. There is nothing remarkable about her location - no windows, no furniture. Nothing but water dripping from the ceiling in tiny, intermittent droplets that sound as if they _pop_ against the hard concrete floors.

A single glowing lightbulb hangs from the same ceiling. And encased in one of the rusty walls is a metal door… a heavy-looking one. She doesn't have to try it to know that it's probably locked.

"How do you feel?" the hoarse voice continues from somewhere above...yet behind her. A voice, she is startled to realize, belongs to _Clark_.

That's when Lois recognizes what she is lying upon. Her head is cradled in Clark's lap, on top of his hands. Even in this chilly little room (chilly? Are they underground?) his body is remarkably warm, like he is recovering from a fever.

Lois cranes her neck so that she can view him clearly. And the sight of him… fills her with a mix of emotions. There is relief for the fact that he is alive, staring determinedly at her. But there is also horror for the excruciating wounds that appear to cover Clark's face. Blood is caked along his chin and nose, and one of his eyes has blackened and swollen shut. Now only one otherworldly blue eye peers out at her with concern.

Soon, she is overwhelmed by two other emotions: fury and fear. Fury toward whoever hurt him so badly, and fear toward anyone who has the power to injure _Superman_ this seriously.

"I'm-" Lois's voice cracks and she finds herself unable to speak for a few moments. Her throat hurts like _hell_ \- and that's when she realizes that, last thing she remembers, Mercy was strangling her.

What has happened since then? How is she alive? Or are they both dead, and this is the afterlife?

With another glance at the rusty, grimy room around her, she determines that this place is most certainly _not_ heaven. And if it's hell...alright, well, it's somewhat understandable that Lois is here because, frankly, she has never been the most _innocent_ person in the world.

But _Clark_? _No way_ would _he_ \- the guy who spends the majority of his time saving lives - ever end up "down here."

She is startled out of her reverie about potential afterlifes when his fingers brush gently against her throat. Her skin is tender, and it stings slightly under his touch.

"Does it hurt to talk?" he asks her seriously. "You don't have to say anything. Just nod yes or no."

Lois nods. But then, despite the pain, she struggles to form words. There are things that she needs to know - this is not the time for her to lose her voice. In a rasp, she asks, "What happened?"

A part of Lois wants to sit up. Another part of Lois is perfectly comfortable lying in his lap like this, so for the time being, she elects stays put. Unfortunately, shortly after she decides this, Clark gingerly helps her rise, using his hands like a platform to lift her upwards. She then faces him at eye level, kneeling upright on the floor.

His next question is: "How much do you remember?"

"Everything until she...until she choked me."

"She was cutting off your air," Clark explains darkly, as if he could not think of something more terrible. "Once you fell unconscious, she released you. Then she dragged us both down here and closed us inside. I'm sorry."

She shoots him a bewildered look, one of her brows raised. "Why are _you_ sorry?"

"That I couldn't stop her. Normally, I would have. But with the kryptonite all over her, I could barely-"

"Move? Think? _Stay alive_?" she finishes for him with difficulty, trying to raise her voice but failing to do so. Her vocal chords still feel as though they've been massaged by a jackhammer. "I know, Clark. I would never blame you for _that_."

They sit in silence for a minute or so, simply listening to the water drip down from the ceiling. Then, Clark suddenly muses, "Why didn't she kill us? She could have. And it seemed like she wanted to."

Lois shrugs, as ignorant to the reason as he is. Then again, she has never been good at rationalizing the actions of absolute _psychopaths_.

"The better question is," Lois replies, lightly grasping at her own sore neck, "how the _hell_ did she get so strong?"

Just then, the door is thrown open, and Clark shields his eyes as if someone is glaring light in them. Every part of him now seems tense and pained.

The source of his plight casually appears at the door, yet another sadistic smile glued to her face. It is Mercy Graves - still as scarred as ever - with the green bits of kryptonite glistening and glowing against her unnatural skin.

"I thought you might be awake by now, Lois," she remarks from the threshold. "But I figured I'd better visit you two regardless - before _Clarkie_ here regains his strength." She glances around the room, a repulsed yet approving expression on her face. "Not that you'll find much sunlight in this place."

Mercy ventures farther into the room, and Lois can actually see beads of sweat form on Clark's forehead. He presses himself against the wall to maintain a safe distance between himself and the Kryptonite, but it will not be long before those little rocks poison him anyway.

"I know it's not exactly the most _romantic_ place for a date," Mercy continues almost tauntingly. "But then again...you two haven't been all that copacetic lately, have you?" She shoots Lois an exaggeratedly pitying look. "You have Lex to thank for that, by the way."

"W-what?" Lois stammers, losing her fear and anger in favor of further confusion toward Mercy's most recent statement.

"Oh come on. We all know that Lex is a manipulative bastard. Do you really think that your boyfriend suddenly became convinced - out of the blue - that your relationship was _dooming_ you? Honestly..._him,_ dooming _you_? It's almost laughable...especially considering that you're the one who chases trouble, only for him to pull you out of it. But Lex made him think the opposite, playing on his insecurities. And it worked."

"_Lex_?" Lois repeats.

"Yup. Assistants...they really _do_ hear everything. I was watching the security cameras when Lex called your boy to his penthouse, claiming that criminals would be lining up to kill you if you two continued. And _God_, you should have heard him _blubber_ about how much he didn't want to _leave_ you…But nevertheless...next thing we all knew, your relationship was…" Mercy makes a slicing motion along her own throat.

This time, Lois glares at Clark, who appears to be heavily stricken by pain from the Kryptonite. He will not look at her or Mercy, and Lois flashes back to that night. The feeling of having her heart torn out is still easily recalled...like she might as well be there now.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lois exclaims, addressing Clark. "All the _bullshit_ you put me through… those months of useless separation and pain...it was never about becoming a better _Superman_… You threw everything away… Because of something _Lex_ said? _Lex, of all people_?"

Clark chooses not to reply - or can't. She doesn't know. But amidst her fear for his well-being, she can't help pointing out, "You're an _idiot_."

It feels good, telling him that. But it also feels terrible - because honestly, she should have seen it. Should have realized. It was right after she was kidnapped by Zod. He has always been overprotective, and the reasoning behind the breakup was so feeble…

"Oh, don't feel so cheated. Lex didn't get what he wanted out of it."

"Like what?" Lois demands furiously. "My undying love? Yeah, that's _never_ going to happen."

"That was only a piece of it," she replies with near-disinterest. "Even more than that, he wanted you to hate him. Hate Superman. That way, when Lex kills him, you wouldn't care. You wouldn't be hurt." Mercy chuckles rather spitefully. "It's sort of thoughtful - in a sick, devious way."

Lois mulls over Mercy's words. _When Lex kills him_, not _if_. Mercy is convinced that it is going to happen. But then again, why wouldn't she be? Superman is already dying in her presence.

"And did Lex give you these powers? The kryptonite? To kill Superman?"

"These _powers_?" Mercy repeats, looking down at her own body in incredulity. "These aren't powers. These are a _punishment_ \- for almost hurting _you_, of all things!" She leans down toward Lois, as if she is giving her a closer, more comprehensive look. "You know, I never understood."

"Understood what?" Lois demands, glancing briefly at Clark to make sure he is okay. He is struggling, but still conscious.

"Why a dumb _bitch_ like you has Superman, Lex Luthor, and the rest of the damn world wrapped around her finger."

Lois's jaw clenches before she defensively asserts, "Listen here... I may be a _bitch_...but I'm _not_ dumb."

Mercy laughs at that. "But you've gotta admit...there's nothing all that _extraordinary_ about you. You write articles for a pittance. You complain about everything. You're not even _that _pretty. I, meanwhile…" A wistful expression overwhelms her features. "Back then, I was nobody's assistant. Nobody's bodyguard. I was a former mercenary, singlehandedly operating a multimillion dollar weapons smuggling business. Nobody could track me down - nobody even knew I existed, or who I worked for. My identity was wiped - I was completely free to do as I liked, and I was paid _marvelously _for it. My bank account would've made celebrities jealous. I slept in five-star hotels every night and bought cars that moved so fast they probably could've outrun Superman."

Suddenly, Mercy grabs the collar of Lois's shirt threateningly, her wistfulness replaced by absolute resentment. "But then you and your boyfriend...you _destroyed me_. He used his powers to find me...to do what no one could...and you...you had to come tumbling into my arms deal. Everything I had built was compromised by what you had lived to talk about, so Lex took it _all_ away from me. _Everything._

"But then I learned that I had done something _even more_ unforgivable. I had tried to kill Lex Luthor's _precious_ Lois Lane. And since he had the capability to frame me for everything - to throw me in jail - he proceeded to take away the things he hadn't even given me in the first place instead. He demeaned me - a trained fighter and strategist -by making me a _mere_ bodyguard. He made me change my look and dye my hair so that I could become his goddamn assistant. And then...then when he came across the prosthetic designs, he formed bigger, worse plans for me. Plans to turn me into _this_."

Mercy releases Lois and gestures to her own skin. "None of this is real. None of this is _organic._ He forced me to oversee the perfection of the designs, even though I _knew_ that every success brought me closer to becoming something inhuman. And finally… a week ago… it happened. I had my body _torn_ apart by scientists until I woke up like _this. _Not me anymore_. _A super-strong monster, with bones made of metal. Underneath it all, I'm just a brain attached to a robot body - no nerves, no physical feeling, no senses. You can't even _imagine_ what's that's like."

"I'm...I'm sorry," Lois apologizes almost tentatively. "That's horrible, and you're right - I can't imagine it. But Lex did that to you - not _us_."

"Lex told me Clark's identity and turned me into this so that I could kill Superman," Mercy tells her as she stands and walks over to Clark, proceeding to kneel down in front of him. "The scientists explained it to me. The pieces of the kryptonite are so small… it takes longer for them to kill his cells. That way, he can _feel_ when I beat him to death - before his nerve cells die. Lex was very excited to hear that part - that he could make his death slow and painful. Even standing here like this, it'll take maybe twenty minutes for him to keel over."

"That's sick."

"Not as sick as the reason why," Mercy sings-songs creepily. She reaches out and tugs on a piece of Clark's hair - the one that usually falls against his forehead as a spit-curl. He tries to move away from her, but cannot garner enough strength to do so. Lois meanwhile, can do nothing to stop her.

"Lex is running for mayor. Everyone knows that. But he has bigger plans. He wants to be considered one of the best people that ever lived. A hero."

"That's surprisingly unambitious for a megalomaniac like Lex," Clark manages. They are the first words he has uttered since Mercy came inside.

"If all goes according to Lex's plan, in a few days, the police will find Superman's body in here - brutally murdered, courtesy of Kryptonite poisoning," Mercy explains. "The public will be frenzied to find you beaten and killed so badly. Furious. And of course, they will demand justice for their martyred man of steel."

Lois feels sick to her stomach, just hearing these things. Clark, meanwhile, has become very pale - and she suspects that Kryptonite is not the only cause.

"Soon afterward, Lex will locate Superman's murderer - me. I mean, who else could it be? I'm the only person with Kryptonite glued all their body. And even I can admit, they're rather ingenious - Lex's next steps. There's gonna be a big, public showdown, in which Lex fights me using this huge mecha-suit that he designed. I'll lose the fight. He'll pretend to blow me up. And from that point forward, he will be remembered as the man who avenged Superman, and I'll earn my freedom again. In fact, there're 100 million dollars waiting for me at the end of this."

"You do realize how _insane _that is, right_?" _Lois demands. "All that...for money?"

"Wait! There's more...Let me finish," Mercy commands before continuing enthusiastically. "The kryptonite that I'll use to kill Superman - turns out that it's the same Kryptonite that the Batman stole. Gotham City's Batman. Can you _believe_ it? And you know who else is from Gotham? Wayne Enterprises. The same Wayne Enterprises who allegedly created the so-called _Metallo_ prosthetics used to make me - or so a few well-bribed government scientists will claim. Then, evidence will surface, courtesy of Lex, that accuses WayneTech of hiring Dr. Vale to develop human weapons, and of enlisting Batman to steal Kryptonite for them. My existence and killing of Superman will supposedly be the unfortunate product of their unethical endeavors. Thus, in one fell swoop, Wayne Enterprises' reputation will be destroyed, Batman will be hunted, and Lex will be free of any suspicion. The plan is so flawless...so deceiving… it's almost _criminal_."

"It _is_ criminal," Clark hisses, pulling at his collar - as if he is overheating. He finally finds the strength to jerk himself out of her reach.

"Oh, don't think so little of me. I don't plan to follow his orders entirely. He did ruin my life, after all. And what good will money do me, really? I can't _feel_ anymore. Nothing can give me pleasure… I'm not even alive."

"Then why did you beat the living shit out of us?" Lois asks indignantly.

"Because I'm still going to kill you," she answers simply.

There is a pause in which both Clark and Lois try to process this confusing conversation. Soon enough, Lois interrupts the silence.

"Oh, I get it!" she yells with furious sarcasm, her hoarse throat protesting every word. "You're just a murderous piece of shit!"

"If it wasn't for you two, Lex wouldn't even _be_ my enemy. I'd still have money. Power. Freedom. My _body_. Like Lex, neither of you are innocent. And I'm going to make you pay for that," Mercy states casually, as if it's the most obvious fact in the world.

Lois and Clark watch in astonishment as Mercy reaches toward her own shoulder and pulls a pea-sized piece of Kryptonite off of her skin, slowly peeling it off until it rests in her hand. Left behind is a little hole lined with wires, which Clark appears to scrutinize with intrigue. Scrutinize, that is, until Mercy holds it out to him, and he flings his head away so fast that he nearly hits his skull on the wall.

"I'm not going to kill three birds with this stone, but I will kill one of them," Mercy says. "In a few minutes, I'm gonna leave you two locked in here, with this piece of Kryptonite. It'll take maybe an hour to kill you, Supes. You can smash it to pieces, throw it to the other end of the room, have Lois swallow it - but that won't change that it's here in some form, and that eventually...the radiation _will_ kill you. And Lois here… the love of your life, and vice versa… is going to watch you die - slowly and painfully. That is my punishment for her and for you."

Then Mercy turns toward Lois.

"Shortly after that, I'll come back and tear you to pieces, Lois. Lex never wanted you to be here… to know his true intentions. He wanted me to do something stupid - lure Superman here _alone_ with his frequency-emitter or something ridiculous. But having you both arrive, ignorantly chasing a story, only for me to kill you both? That's priceless."

"Go to hell," Lois hisses. But Mercy's rant will not end. She keeps talking excitedly.

"I'll have to hide _your_ body, Lois - I have plans for it later on, and Lex can't know right away that you're dead. Meanwhile, _Clarkie's_ corpse has to stay here for the police. Don't worry - he'll be recognizable. I'll make sure he's in costume and all that."

Lois and Clark lock eyes fearfully. Lois's heart is beating so fast...sped up by terror. Are they really going to have to watch each other die? The idea...it seems so impossible… so terrible… that it can't possibly be true… can it?

"After the police find Superman's body down here, Lex will pretend to mobilize forces against me. But instead of letting him win, I'm going to break his little suit in two. I can do it - he made me strong enough. And then, when his broken body is underneath my foot, humiliated by defeat, I'm going to tell him what I did to the only woman who ever meant anything to him. In fact, I think I'll give him one of Lois's body parts, just to show that I mean business. That she's really gone.

Lois makes an indignant noise. Clark protests immediately, saying, "You can't-" but Mercy speaks over him, refusing to be interrupted.

"In the end, he'll die with no power, no glory, and no love. It's rather fitting. It's like how I died, when they took my body from me. When they made me a monster. So get used to this place, you two. It's your grave."

With that, Mercy Graves - the former Kari Pope - walks out of the room, slamming the door behind herself. The piece of Kryptonite has been dropped on the floor, like a singular, green version of the water droplets falling from the ceiling.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS/CONCEPTS**

**A/N: The hiatus is probably going to be a real thing. I have so much work. I haven't written anything for fun in over a month now. Sorry for another cliffhanger, but I gotta revel in the drama and give myself some more time. **

**I want to write so badly, though...**

**anyway i hope this chapter made you freak out from suspense lol. **


	67. Chapter Thirty-Three - Hour

_CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - HOUR_

"Lois, quick - your bag. Give it to me," Clark whispers urgently, holding out his hand. His limbs feel as though they're spontaneously combusting...thought there is nothing _spontaneous_ about this feeling. The kryptonite is still in the center of the room, glowing softly.

He has felt worse bouts of kryptonite poisoning before, though. Mercy is probably correct - smaller quantities kill his cells more slowly. The pain is lessened, but more drawn out. A part of him thinks that this situation might be worse with an immediate exposure to a large chunk of kryptonite. A large exposure is fast...a quick end. Another part is grateful for the opportunity to attempt to save Lois and himself.

Lois - who previously had her eyes glued to the door that Mercy just exited - snaps her gaze toward Clark. Without hesitating, she stands and walks back toward him, the purse enclosed in her hand. Her gaze is worried as she sits down right next to him and places it in his lap.

"Unless you're planning on using my lipstick, I don't think anything in there will help us," she tells him, her voice distinctly reminiscent of someone with laryngitis.

He tries to meet her eyes, but his vision keeps shaking and blurring. There is no possible way that he can make use of x-ray or heat vision under the kryptonite's radiation. Even his thoughts seem to ooze slowly through his brain, like his synapses are coated with jello. Another effect of the kryptonite, he knows.

As he takes out Lois's shattered phone and Bruce's cracked communicator, he just doesn't know if he can make this work. Not in his current condition.

Mercy never took his own phone, but after the thorough beating she gave him, he suspects that it is broken just as thoroughly (which is probably why Mercy never relieved him of it). And sure enough, when he removes it from his pocket, it is just as completely demolished as the other gadgets.

But he still has the pieces. He _can_ do this, can't he?

It takes more concentration than he can muster for him to recall everything he learned these last few months. Wiring...electricity...frequencies… the brain cells that contain that knowledge are slowly dying, just like the rest of him. Not only will he have to do this, but do it quickly as well. Before he stops. Stops living.

Nonetheless, he removes the back from Lois's phone, and then from his own, revealing the internal parts. As he tries to pull pieces apart, his fingers are trembling, too weak to maintain steadiness. When he finds himself unable to hold a particular wire, he cries out in frustration.

"What are you doing?" Lois whispers to him, leaning closer to scrutinize his work.

"We have three phones here. If I can remove the salvageable parts from each, we might be able to combine them into one working device. But I can't-"

"Wait... you know how to do that?" Lois asks, seeming skeptical.

Clark nods. "What do you think I was doing at the fortress all this time? I had to keep my mind off of you _somehow_. Trying to be like my biological father… learning science… all-around not being _human_… those seemed like my best options. But right now...with that _thing_ in here… I can't focus… I can't…"

For a few seconds, Lois doesn't say anything - she simply stares at him. Then her expression becomes remarkably determined, and he feels her hand wrap around his feverish wrist, steadying it. "I'll help you. In whatever ways you need."

His expression shows the deepest gratitude toward her. (But then again, when isn't he grateful toward...for... her?)

"That wire," he tells her, getting down to business and pointing to the object in question. "Pull it out carefully. Lay it on the floor, but make sure it doesn't get wet."

Lois does as she is asked, seriously and focused. He, meanwhile, gets to work on Bruce's communicator. It's by far the least damaged device (though still unusable at the current moment). Its battery is intact, which is the most important thing, even if the many of its other internal mechanisms are completely busted.

A few of the communicator's modules are cracked, and Clark replaces them with a mix of the intact ones from the other phones. There is no working speaker among the parts and only one marginally operational microphone, so Clark figures that whatever communication they achieve, it will probably be one-way.

Oh god...it feels like needles are being embedded in his skin now. The pain is worsening. For a little while, he has to drop everything and simply sit there, gathering himself despite the agony of the radiation. He wonders how long he has. Further, he wonders what will give out first - his body, his consciousness, or his resolve.

No...it won't be the latter. It won't be any of them.

Lois places a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Clark doesn't answer. He just focuses on the feeling of her touch. There's probably a pulse beating along her wrist, fighting resolutely for her to live. And if he dies, then Mercy will come for her. That can't happen. He _has_ to keep it together.

He nods yet again and continues examining the phone.

She then asks: "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Just don't let me pass out. And if I throw up, make sure it doesn't get on the phones."

His eyes become distracted by her brief smile - the way it seems to change her entire face. Arched eyebrows relax, dark eyes lighten. He doesn't think he has properly appreciated it before. But then again..._now_ is not the proper time.

He removes more parts. The DRAM in the communicator is less damaged than those in the others, so he removes the usable integrated circuits from the phones and places them where the recently discarded, ruined parts were.

Beads of sweat pour down his face. It's very hot - too hot. How many degrees is it in here, he wonders? A million? A glance at Lois reveals that she is not sweating in the least...so it's just him. Just the kryptonite. Frying him alive.

Funny how a penny-sized rock is going to kill him… when a flight into space couldn't.

No, no, no! What in God's name is he thinking? He can't die. He _can't_.

His focus returns again, but it takes even more effort to retain it now. Each thought feels heavier, like it is weighed down with dumbbells. With difficulty, he recognizes that the RISC microprocessor is mostly shot on the communicator, but Lois's phone's component is largely unscathed, and takes the place of the ruined one just fine.

With a final examination, he is relieved to discover that each part of the communicator now _appears_ operational. Carefully, he makes the necessary alterations, covers up the appropriate mechanisms, and places the communicator in front of himself.

Even though he has never used it before, it is not hard to figure out how the communicator operates - it's more like a beeper than a phone, really, except it has the capability to carry conversations. Regardless, that is all they need. He is even about to activate it...when he realizes that the call button has fallen off completely.

"Lois...do you have a pen in that bag?"

Rapidly, she sifts through it, searching. Finally, she locates one and holds it out to him.

"Thanks," he tells her, taking it from her grasp. But his hands are slippery...and still trembling.

"Do you want me to do it?"

"Yes, please…"

As Lois carefully reclaims the pen and the communicator, Clark shuts his eyes tight, trying to tell his own brain to _cooperate. _But it _won't_. It's dying and it's panicking and it's running out of time.

He opens his eyes just in time to see Lois to press the call button with the tip of the pen. And though it sounds like a struggling, antique car, it whirs to life all the same. Clark exhales a sigh of relief - he managed to do this, at least. He did all he could.

She turns to him. "How do we know if it's working? If Bruce is receiving the call?"

"We don't," Clark says simply. "There's no...no working working speaker - and the microphone is pretty damaged too. Our words are probably getting jumbled. All we can hope…" It's getting harder for him to talk for extended periods of time. "All we can hope is that he gets the call...and figures out that something's wrong."

Though she appears worried, Lois still proceeds to talk urgently into the device, saying: "Bruce! If you can hear us, we're at that Met Gen lab that you sent us to! We're trapped! You have to help us! The assistant...she's trying to-"

Just then, the communicator begins to spark violently, its circuits shorting out. In fear, Lois drops it and kicks it away from herself as it catches fire. She still tries to salvage it though - blotting her jacket on top of it, quelling the flames. But the fire is not put out before the communicator is completely destroyed.

"Dammit!" she exclaims. "That was all we had!"

Clark leans his head against the wall...exhaustion, pain, and disappointment overwhelming him. It _is_ possible that Bruce got the message, though...before the communicator blew up, that is. But so much time has already passed...and Clark can only have so much left. Would Bruce even get here in time? Probably not.

Perhaps thinking something similar, Lois plops back into her spot beside Clark, her head in her hands. But they are sitting closer now...their sides pressed together. By comparison with his own overheating skin, she feels cool. Maybe that indicates how bad his condition truly is. But for the moment, all her can is think about how _good_ it feels to have her so close by.

They sit in silence for a while, counting the seconds by the water dripping from the ceiling. And God...silence is so useless, isn't it? There are so many things he has to say to her… things she has to know, especially if these are his last minutes with her.

But she speaks first.

"You know, it'd only be fair if you threw up," she tells him, apparently responding to his previous request. "Especially considering that you got a pretty good view of my vomit the other night."

He chuckles slightly at that. "Honestly, I didn't eat much today. I don't think I even _have_ anything to throw up."

"But have you ever done it?"

"Done what? Throw up?"

"Yeah."

"No, I haven't."

"You're lucky, then. It feels awful."

"Lois," he exhales, running his hands through his hair. "Is… _vomit_ really what you want to discuss right now?"

Now she is the one who laughs. "No, I suppose not." But then her smile fades - slowly… contemplatively.

"I want the reasons why we...why we fell apart," Lois orders him seriously. "All of them. And I want them from _you_ \- not the twisted version from her."

Of course, she does. After Mercy told his tale like that, and added the extra component of Lex's deception...Lois must be very confused. And furious.

"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to talk, Lois."

"Then I promise to listen to you as long as you are."

Clark exhales, trying to push the pain and the kryptonite poisoning out of his mind so that he can not only remember...but also recite...all the things that went through his head right before he did it. Before he ended it.

"Zod kidnapped you. You almost died...and I was..._God_, I was really scared, Lois. He was ready to murder you before my eyes, and I couldn't help thinking...you wouldn't even _know _Zod if it wasn't for me. He was a demon from _my_ past, not yours. But I dragged you into my problems, and you nearly paid the price for that.

"I didn't want to do it. To separate myself from you permanently. So for a few days, I just kept my distance...trying to think of a solution. Something that would let me stay with you - selfishly - and protect you at the same time. But I couldn't think of anything. And then Lex confronted me, accusing me of all the things that I've been afraid of. He told me that I was going to be the death of you… that people would always be trying to get to me through _you…_ and I couldn't argue with him."

"Dammit, Clark - I can argue with him just fine!" she asserts. "Where were you when I was sixteen and got mugged for being on the wrong side of town? Where were you four years ago, when I got kidnapped and almost killed for writing a story about an easily-pissed off mob boss? What about that time in Qurac, when I got _shot_ and nearly bled out?"

"I...I wish I was could have helped you, but Superman...I hadn't assumed that sort of role yet."

"Exactly!" Lois says, snapping her fingers. "But I found trouble anyway - and also found my own solutions. I'm still alive today, aren't I?"

Clark doesn't answer. Now, he is simply listening to her.

"Or even a few nights ago...in that warehouse - I wasn't there because of _you_. I was there because of _my own_ investigation - my own reasons. When I'm in danger, that's on _me_ \- that's because of _my_ decisions, not yours. And you know what? I'm _okay_ with that! I'd rather die on my own terms, doing or protecting what I love, than live in the safety of a little bubble of loneliness and boredom. Can't you respect that?"

They sit in more silence for a little while, listening to the dripping water, remembering the sound of Lois's own tears hitting the floor on that night, so many months ago.

Then, she adds more quietly: "Having you around, Clark? _Loving_ you? I've always lived a dangerous life...but you? You made me feel safe. In those times when I was dangling off a building or held at gunpoint... I always knew and _accepted_ that there was a chance that you wouldn't be able to rescue me. But just _believing_ that you would try your hardest to save me, or that someone would miss me for _me_ and not just my articles - that made me feel safe. That made me feel loved. And it was worth any cost."

"Lois-"

There are tears welling up in her eyes now. There are probably tears in his too, but he can't tell. His skin is so hot that he can't feel anything else but the kryptonite poisoning and the cathartic pain of listening to her words.

"And when you left, telling me that I was wasting your time? _Christ_, Clark. That was even worse than saying that you were trying to protect me! That was like telling me that you didn't...that you didn't give a _damn_ anymore - that I wasn't _worth_ saving, and that everything I believed about you was an illusion. That you didn't want to bother with me. My feeling of safety, of home, flew out the door with _you_."

"That was _never_ how I wanted you to feel," he tells her desperately. "I just didn't want you to think that _you_ were the reason I wanted it over-"

"You tore my heart in half, Clark! And maybe that sounds cliche, but it was true! And you acted fine with it afterward, like it didn't matter…How was I _not_ supposed to think that there was something wrong with me?"

"Lois after...after I said those things...that was the first time I flew into space."

She looks at him in confusion, unsure of how that relates to their conversation. And maybe he is delirious and rambling amidst the Kryptonite poisoning, but for some reason, it seems vitally important to tell her this. To tell _anyone_ this. But her especially. Always her.

"I figured if something went wrong...well, what did I have to lose? Not you. Not anymore. So I flew out there and just..._screamed_. Soundlessly. It didn't help - nothing made me feel better. Months passed, and I couldn't stop thinking about you. Couldn't stop wanting to change my mind. But I was convinced… and you stopped getting into trouble once I was out of your life… so I thought I did the right thing."

"I stopped getting into trouble because I was _reeling_, Clark - I wasn't myself _because_ I was in pain! I gave everything to you - only for you to toss it out the window. It took a while for me to remember what it was like to be alone. To rely on myself and no one else. And sure enough, when I _did_ remember, when Bruce brought that story to me… I found myself again. And trouble followed. Because that's what I do. I chase trouble. It's my job. It used to be something that we shared."

Her words now sound distorted, he realizes… which means that even more cells must be dying. The ones in his ears...or the ones in his brain. Maybe both. Regardless, one thing is clear: time is slipping away so quickly.

Now, she looks at him directly, her features tight. "So is what Bruce said true?"

"What?"

"When he said that you're still in love with me… was that true?"

"Of course it's true, Lois," he tells her simply, like the fact is obvious. And how could she not know? It's so plain all over him… how he feels about her. Written all over his face whenever he gets a glimpse of her. But maybe he's a far better actor than he gave himself credit for.

"I do love you," he continues. "There was never a second when I didn't. Never a second when I didn't fear you moving on with someone else, like with Bruce. Never a second when I didn't dread mornings without seeing you, or hate the days when I couldn't hear your laughter, or miss listening to the sound of your voice. God, Lois...I built _robots_ to talk to because _everyone_ _else_ reminded me of something that you used to do or like or just _you _in general…"

His throat has started to ache now, but not just from the heaviness of these emotions. It burns with kryptonite poisoning - an indication of his continuing demise. But there are still things that he needs to know for sure.

Sighing, he then asks the question that has been eating away at him.

"And what about you? Do you hate me, Lois? Or are you still determined to hang on to someone as stupid as me?"

Lois hesitates before responding. But she responds all the same.

"Clark, I never _loved_ anyone before I met you, okay? That doesn't just go away. I still love you. I'll probably love you until the very end… which, unfortunately for the two of us, isn't long from now."

"We're not going to die," he tries to assure her, even though he finds himself unable to believe it fully. "Bruce will come."

"Smallville, I've already had so many miracles in my life. Another seems like pushing the limit. I just can't believe that we finally came clean to each other _right_ _before_ we're supposed to die."

"Lois...don't give up hope. Please."

"Clark, nobody at the Planet knows we're here. Superman - my usual rescuer - is a little preoccupied at the current moment, if you haven't noticed. And Bruce? We don't even know if that communicator worked. Don't get me wrong - I don't want to die. But I'm a little too realistic to expect to be saved from a bind like this."

Clark glances at the piece of Kryptonite on the floor, which is still glowing ominously. He fears that she is right. How long has it been now? There can't be much time left…

"Remember how much we argued on that first night?" he says suddenly, recalling when they first admitted to loving each other - a product of yet another major misunderstanding between them. He thought he was doing the best thing for her then too - keeping his secret from her. But that turned out to be utterly untrue.

In fact, it seems like he has always tried to play the same game with her. Kept trying to control her, even. And that was his mistake. Because despite everything he tried to do to protect her, they are both here - most likely about to die in some basement. And God...he truly regrets every moment he did not spend with her.

Lois gives a short whistle. "How could I forget? That was some..._argument_."

"Your dirty connotation aside," Clark retorts, somehow finding it within himself to smile, "Well, I was just thinking about how similar that argument was to the one we just had."

"Clark Kent," she begins impatiently, "If you think I'm going to _do_ you in this gross-ass basement-"

"No, that's not what I mean at all!" he denies indignantly. "It's just...If we get out of this... from now on… I think we probably need to communicate better."

Lois laughs. "Yeah. You _think_?"

Another few seconds of silence. Pain seems to drill into Clark's every nerve, and with every moment, his concentration seems to slip farther out of his reach. Logic and resolve begin to escape him, and he can't even help it when he mumbles: "Speaking of thinking...do you really think we're not gonna make it?"

Lois leans her head on his shoulder. "I don't see how we could."

"I'm sorry that I can't save us."

"Don't be. You did all that you could."

He extends his hand to her, and she takes it, intertwining their fingers. The feeling of her hand in his own...it's an odd thing for a person to miss so much, but now that he has it again, one thing is clear as day - he missed it more than words could ever properly describe. Even before they shared their first kiss… they always had this. Holding hands. Lending each other strength.

How many times have they even done this, he wonders? The first time, on that rooftop, as she recounted her tales from Qurac. The second time, in the middle of Emil Hamilton's lab. The third time, when they realized Krypton was gone. Walking through the park in New York City. Whenever they strolled anywhere in Metropolis. The morning after learning about his nightmares… the list goes on and on.

He doesn't think he'll mind...dying… with her hand...in his…

He's so tired…

"Clark! Don't fall asleep on me! C'mon!" Lois orders, shaking his shoulders. He must have nodded off, because she proceeds to grasp his face, forcing him to open his eyes and look at her. And it's...it's so difficult. Everything hurts so badly and he just wants to sleep….

"Look at me, Smallville. Don't leave me alone down here."

"I'm...I'm so tired, Lo…"

"No! You're not! Keep your eyes open, dammit!"

He hums, his eyes falling closed again. But the next thing he knows, Lois has grabbed him by his collar and has pulled him against her, crashing her lips onto his. She kisses him - fiercely, too. And Clark is so stunned by the sensation of it all - by that electricity that has haunted him for months - that his eyes fly wide open. Every one of his nerves is alight and conscious, responsive to her touch. And something beyond his control and even his weakness for kryptonite causes him to wrap his arms around her, pulling her even closer.

"You better not be _pretending_ to die to guilt me into kissing you," she whispers against his mouth when she pulls away slightly. "_Not_ that I'm not enjoying it."

She begins to kiss him again when the sound of an opening door breaks them apart. Both of them tense, believing it to be Mercy returning to inflict more misery upon them. But they are both stunned to the silhouette of a large, black bat at the threshold, hunched over and intimidating.

His voice, on the other hand, is not so scary. Especially when it speaks with sarcasm dripping off of every gruff word.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that you both _wanted_ to be rescued."

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS/CONCEPTS/ETC**

**A/N:**

**I think there might have been some confusion about the hiatus. I wasn't going to leave you with that awful cliffhanger! I'm not that evil! The hiatus starts two chapters from now, once the second book ends. There's a final chapter coming, and then an epilogue. I also might post some stuff from Clark or Lex's POV to waste time...hmm...**

**Also, I don't know anything about how phones really work, so if my descriptions here are inaccurate, apologies. I did what I could with what google could offer me. **

**Hope you enjoyed! (ALSO... CLOIS!)**


	68. Chapter Thirty-Four - Defense

_CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - DEFENSE_

Bruce received the call in the middle of his board meeting, and immediately, he regretted leaving Metropolis so early. It figured that Luthor would make a move once he had left.

Bruce exited the boardroom to answer his corresponding communicator, but the only sounds it broadcasted were static and garbled, nearly inhuman noises. But it was easy enough to deduce from the tone of those noises that the person making them was distressed. And since Lois was the one with the communicator, it could really only be _her_ in trouble.

Quickly, he tried to access the tracking system of Lois's communicator, but her connection must have been very spotty - it kept fading in and out. It took some fiddling, but he was eventually able to pinpoint it at the old Met Gen Diagnostics building- the same one where he had directed her and Superman.

He tried not to be worry about the fact that the signal wasn't moving.

Or that the connection was suddenly extinguished.

Calling her yielded nothing but an unavailability message, and Clark Kent's listed number had the same issue.

Something was certainly wrong. Bruce didn't need to be a detective to recognize that unavoidable fact.

The board was far too giddy about their recent "win" against Lexcorp in the patent dispute, and they hardly cared when Bruce excused himself for a poorly-fabricated appointment with a nonexistent massage therapist (Bruce has never received a professional massage in his life, but people buy into his spoiled façade so easily).

He especially tried not to seem too unnerved as he called Alfred and Dick, ordering them to prepare the Batjet (Dick named the advanced stealth jet as such when he was younger, and that label simply stuck).

Traffic slowed him down considerably. The cars never reached a standstill, like they constantly do in Metropolis, but Gotham still boasts a frustrating amount of congestion on its roads.

When he entered the Batcave, Dick demanded, "Where are you going? Is it Ra's again? One of your old teachers?"

Bruce almost never leaves Gotham if he can help it - except for the few reasons that Dick had just listed. It was only recently that he had started visiting Metropolis regularly, thanks to Lex Luthor's stealing of the prosthetic designs. Now it seems as though he spends half his time there...

But he had still never traveled there in such a frenzied, impromptu manner. It was no wonder why Dick was concerned.

"Hopefully, I'll be back in a few hours," he told him curtly, refusing to waste time on an explanation that could be given later. He knew that Dick hated to be treated in such a way - to be placed outside of the informational loop, so to speak. But at the moment, Bruce's priorities were elsewhere. "If problems arise, I know you're fully capable of handling them until I return."

Dick raised an eyebrow at him. "Does this have something to do with Superman?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"Maybe. But you're not coming with me. I need someone _here_ \- to watch over Gotham. And besides, he may not even be involved at all. For all I know, this could just be a very frustrating yet relieving technological malfunction."

"But you _have_ to know for sure, right?"

"Yes. I have to know."

Thus, Bruce donned the Batman costume and climbed into the jet. Admittedly, the action felt awkward considering that he would be operating in broad daylight - which the Batman almost never does. But in this instance… with Lois and Superman's lives in the balance… he didn't have much of a choice.

The jet sped out of the Batcave, not quite breaking the sound barrier but moving incredibly fast.

He arrived in Metropolis about thirty minutes after receiving the distress signal - an elapsed time that fit his expectations. But it would have been too difficult to simply land at the Met Gen building. His jet would have been left in the open, where witnesses would have surely seen it and reported it to local police (after all…Luthor had accused him of stealing, and wanted men like the Batman could not afford to be so careless). And of course, law enforcement's interruption would only prove to disrupt the pursuit of his goals. So Bruce circled overhead for a while, eventually using the hover feature to sufficiently slow the plane over the building.

Ultimately, he was ejected by a bungee cord, which lowered him to the ground by pulley-system. The free-falling sensation it granted him was… _exhilarating_. (It must be so incredible to be Superman, he thought offhandedly – in jealousy of Clark's ability to fly). Yes, Batman's main goal is to rid the world of criminals...but Bruce will never hesitate to enjoy the more… daring aspects of his alter ego.

It is the gruesome aspects that keep him awake at night.

Once he was lowered to the ground, he stood outside of the Met Gen laboratory, examining its exterior. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. (A good sign or a bad one, he wondered?) Regardless of either outcome, he proceeded inside.

The doors were unlocked… which was most definitely a bad omen, in his extensive experience. An abandoned building like that… especially one with potentially dangerous chemicals and devices inside… no proprietor would leave it unprotected like this. Not unless they – or someone who paid them off - _wanted_ people to snoop around.

People like Daily Planet reporters. Two of them, to be precise.

An ambush was planned here, most likely.

As he silently swept inside, the interior provided further proof of this. One of the sidewalls had been thoroughly smashed, the bricks crumbling and pulverized in many places. The imprint of a humanoid body was nearly visible on its surface, like someone had been pressed so forcefully against the wall that a cast of the person had formed. But it would have required immense strength for someone to do that, Bruce knew. So who would have the strength to cause such destruction, he wondered…?

Superman, surely. But no… Bruce knew that violence like this did not fit his motivations. Superman famously repairs any damages his causes during his conflicts, and the damage here was certainly not minor.

Bruce examined it closer, only to discover that droplets of blood had been sprinkled on the floor. Bright red. Not dried yet - but glistening in the natural light that was pouring in from a few, small upper windows.

Most blood would have at least _partially_ dried during Bruce's 30 minute trip from Gotham to Metropolis. But this blood appeared so healthy...it might as well have still been _in_ someone's body.

Bruce has always known what human blood looks like. An image of it pooling around pearls… lining the pavement of an alleyway… it's always impossible to get out of his head.

But this blood...it was glistening in the _sunlight…_

Was that Superman's blood? It would have made sense - in sunlight, Superman's cells (even his blood cells) would have probably continued to thrive. Plus, Lois's distress call had originated from here, and she most definitely would not have contacted Bruce if Superman had easily handled a villain. Someone must have truly struck Superman _hard_ for Lois to panic so completely.

But who could have been strong enough to cause Superman to bleed like that? With kryptonite it might be possible (Lex _did_ fake the theft of a chunk of it), but no normal mercenary could have shattered a brick wall like that.

Bruce suddenly realized that Superman's assailant – whoever they were - should not have been underestimated. Because whoever they were, they had the power to tear any person to pieces - Superman included. And unfortunately for Bruce, they were probably still in the vicinity of the building.

The trail of blood continued down a hallway and descended a flight of stairs. Easily trackable and sloppy, in Bruce's opinion - but lucky for him. Before he descended them, he heard a voice emanating from below. Feminine and familiar, it was revealed to be Lex's assistant's voice, its tone curt and indicative of annoyance.

"Yes, Lex, I have him. There's no way he's getting out," she assures him impatiently. "You'll be happy with my work, I'm sure. No one will find him… not until you want them to."

She paused as she listened to Lex's response.

"I think I'm adjusting well to the… treatment that you gave me. It's not exactly pleasant, no…but I'm learning to _cope_."

Bruce noted how she said the last part - through gritted teeth. Her resentment toward Lex had been palpable… though she had still appeared to be following his orders.

But if she was so determined to keep Superman from being discovered, Bruce figured that she wouldn't react well to the sound of a break-in. Bruce briefly headed back upstairs and attached a small, high-frequency device on one of the windows. Normally stored in his utility belt, this gadget had been designed to break glass for safety purposes (he has injured himself by punching through far too many windows). But in that moment, he intended it to serve as a distraction more than as a safety measure.

Bruce then positioned himself in the shadows beside the staircase. Finally, once he retrieved the remote control from his belt, he activated the little device. The tinkling sound of breaking glass soon filled the air, audible from any corner of the building. As expected, the assistant reacted quickly to the noise and sprinted up the stairs, intending to determine the cause of the disturbance.

Once she was out of view, Bruce quickly ran down to what could only be considered the basement. He glanced around. On one side was a refrigerating room, which most likely had been once used to store biological chemicals and samples. On the other side is a room labeled "STORAGE." The door had been locked with a keypad system. Normally, a locking mechanism such as that would have been a problem… but old buildings such as these have such easily outsmarted models. With dexterity, he removed the panel of the keypad from the wall, snipped a few wires with a pair of cutters from his belt, and soon enough, the door was unlatching.

Briefly, he wondered how badly Lex's assistant had hurt Lois or Clark. Was Lois even alive, he feared? The assistant hadn't mentioned her at all…

But then, of course, when Bruce opened the door… he was not greeted by the unfavorable sight of Lois or Clark injured or murdered.

Instead, he received the somewhat unexpected vision of them _kissing_ _passionately_ on the floor. And not chastely, either.

Bruce no longer felt like their rescuer. Now, he was stricken by the impression that he was interrupting something that was not only private...but also something that he had no urge to witness. He suppressed an irritated sigh.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that you both _wanted_ to be rescued," Bruce thus remarked with irritation.

Now back in the present, Lois turns to look at Bruce with immense gratitude splayed across her features. "You came!" she exclaims happily, and Bruce nods in response. He starts to venture into the room when she stops him.

"Wait! First… get rid of the Kryptonite. It's killing him, and he doesn't have much time-"

Before, Bruce was unable to notice how sickly Clark Kent looked (considering that his body was mostly buried under Lois's until a few moments ago). But now that she has pulled away from him, it is clear that he is suffering from sort of serious ailment. Sweat is abundant on his skin, and his eyes appear rather glassy.

What surprises Bruce even more is the fact that the piece of kryptonite that caused this condition...is no larger than a small bead. Yet it has affected him so completely, he truly appears to be dying...

Without hesitation, Bruce strides over to the kryptonite, scoops it up, and then walks back outside. He tosses it all the way down the hallway - which he hopes will be a sufficient distance to save Superman's life.

When Bruce returns, Lois is helping Clark to his feet. His condition has almost instantaneously improved - though he still resembles a weakened man instead of the _Superman_ that he normally appears to be.

Bruce makes eye contact with Clark, whose relief is even more apparent than Lois's.

"Thank you…" Clark breathes as he leans against Lois. The motion appears to be less for relying upon her strength, and more for simply holding her close. Meanwhile, she begins pulling him along and toward the exit of the little storage room. Bruce is about to walk forward, intending to aid her in supporting Clark's weight… when he feels a sudden and _forceful_ tug backwards.

Next things Bruce knows, his back is slamming against the wall outside the storage room. If it wasn't for his expensively designed body-armor, his spine might have shattered on the impact. But instead, his wind has merely been knocked out of him.

Bruce cannot help remembering that night in the warehouse, when Superman had used a similar move on him. But as Lex's assistant stalks into view, seeming livid, Bruce knows that she will be far less gentle with him.

"Another idiot in a cape?" she says. "Damn…Where do all you freaks come from?"

She is nearly unrecognizable, he realizes. Last time he saw her, she could still have been called beautiful. But now scars cover every inch of her skin, and her face is a poor caricature of her original one – disfigured and inhuman. And is that actually skin on her body, he wonders with repulsion? It seems more like something artificial… plastic, given the way it reflects the light.

There are pieces of kryptonite embedded along her body - which can only mean one thing, according to the now-disappeared evidence at the Lexcorp warehouse. Lex's assistant has become a recipient of the weaponized version of the WayneTech prosthetics… the version Lex hoped to use when making kryptonite-powered, partially-robotic soldiers.

The terrifying thing is that, no matter how ridiculous that ambition sounded for Lex, he still succeeded in achieving it. The proof is standing right before him.

"Mercy," Bruce can hear Clark saying (is that her name? Mercy?). "Your plan is finished. You've been found out. If you turn yourself in-"

"Found out?" Mercy repeats in patronizing incredulity. "Just because this Dracula-wannabe tracked you down…doesn't mean that I can't still kill you all…"

She takes a few intimidating steps toward Bruce, clearly intending to scare him before she truly attacks. Her body language tells all. But this time, he is expecting her. Right before she can reach him, Bruce flings several explosive batarangs from his belt, and they embed themselves in her skin.

If what he suspects is true, they will not kill her. Just buy him some time to think.

She seems stunned – but not by pain. By the lack thereof. And further, she is too distracted by her lack of sensation that she fails to pull out the batarangs, and thus, they explode right on top of her. She shrieks as smoke fills the area. And Bruce, seeing this cover as an opportunity, drops several smoke pellets to compound the obscurity.

"Lois! Clark!" he calls to them. "Get out of here!"

He can only hope that they can make it to the stairs without visibility.

Thankfully, that hope seems to be fulfilled. By the time the smoke clears, no one remains in the little storage room. There is only the sound of departing, heavy footsteps, and the gradually quieting protests that must belong to Clark Kent – who keeps demanding something noble like "We have to go back for him!"

Lois, luckily, knows not to listen to him. How would someone susceptible to kryptonite poisoning be any help?

Mercy is currently kneeling on the floor, staring at a gaping hole in her own chest. Much of her skin has melted off, leaving nothing but a metallic (but unscathed) exoskeleton underneath. The sight of it is…unnerving to say the least. Absolutely horrifying to say the most.

Bruce is pleased to see that many pieces of kryptonite were thrown off of her amidst the explosion. If they are her power source… it is smart to have them spread out like that. That makes it more difficult to disconnect and depower her. But he can still reduce her power levels but targeting those little pebbles of kryptonite…

She staggers to her feet. "You…you _bastard_," she snarls, her eyes still fixated on her own inhuman, metal body. "Look what you did to me!"

No matter what, she is still going to be very strong. Stronger than he will ever be, the human that he is. So he must concentrate on avoiding her blows…

But she is no Superman. She is a robot. And robots have an abundance of weaknesses.

Speed is harder to maintain than strength, which is why, without her abundant power sources, that is her first ability to disappear. She now moves at a normal pace when she lunges toward Bruce, and he manages to dodge her. Instead, her fist crashes through the wall and becomes stuck there, embedded in the concrete foundation.

Her other limbs are still free, and he is not inclined to underestimate them. Her foot quickly sweeps toward him in a wide arc, sporting enough force to smash a brick into pieces. To avoid that, he allows himself to bend backwards, and then rights himself again. There's another strike – this time with her free hand. He is forced to catch that with his left forearm, and he nearly shatters his bone doing so.

Mercy continues to tug on her trapped fist, and Bruce knows that she will be free before long. If she receives any sort of upper hand, he will die. Plain and simple. So he forms another plan on the spot… and pursues it.

He sprints down the hall until he is standing in front of the refrigerator room's door. And sure enough, with a yell, Mercy removes her hand from the wall and comes barreling his way.

She barrels so unstoppably that, when she reaches him, she cannot stop herself when he rolls out of her way, and she crashes right through the door. She staggers a bit too far into the space, losing her balance in her wild pursuit of him.

Bruce follows behind her, frantically glancing around in the dim light. Luckily, he is used to the nighttime, and he spots what he is looking for rather quickly: a canister of cryogenic nitrogen gas, attached to the wall. Left over from when the room was actually functional.

Now for the difficult part.

Mercy turns around, prepared to lunge at him again, her expression nearly rabid. But before she can, Bruce detaches his cape and throws it on top of her, cutting off her sight. She may have Superman's strength and speed to a degree… but not his senses. So he targets them.

In her distraction, he sidesteps her and goes for the canister of liquid nitrogen. But Mercy is thrashing under the cape, and even in blindness, she manages to grab hold of Bruce's left arm – which is already injured – as he passes her. It becomes a tug-of-war as Bruce's hand closes around the canister, while Mercy tugs upon his other arm, pulling him toward her and certain death.

The canister is fastened to the wall, and with him dangling so precariously like this, he cannot free it. And if he lets go of it, she will snap his neck like a twig.

_Dammit_, he thinks, realizing what he will have to do. He lets his entire body go slack except for the fingers around the canister. So when she removes his cape and tugs him backwards, it is _her_ strength that loosens the canister from the wall. During this motion, Bruce tries his best to ignore the pain as Mercy pulls his shoulder out of its socket and breaks most of the muscles in his arm. His right arm is preoccupied with the task of spraying the canister's contents – liquid nitrogen – onto Mercy's body.

"What are you-?" she begins, before the freezing-cold cloud of droplets begins to stiffen her joints. Then, after realizing what is occurring, she screams, "No! Stop!"

When metal freezes, it becomes brittle and stiff. And Mercy is made of metal now.

She desperately grabs for the canister, but her leg is already frozen and fragile. In a swift, forceful motion with his own leg, Bruce kicks at it, and her limb shatters into pieces. She immediately loses her balance, falling to her side with yet another shriek.

Her other leg becomes covered with the nitrogen as well, and it breaks just as easily. He even uses it on her arms, and it is rather satisfying when the grip on Bruce's bruised bicep is loosened _because_ her entire arm falls apart.

Soon enough, she is nothing but a torso and a head, staring hatefully up at him. But because the kryptonite was so spread out on her skin… skin that no longer exists, in many places… there isn't enough power to sustain her completely anymore. The light begins to fade from her eyes…seemingly deadening her… and that's when Bruce realizes the gravity of what he just did.

Mercy was conscious. And did he just—?

"Batman?" a voice says from the doorway.

He turns to see Lois, staring at him earnestly. Her eyes proceed to glance from his cowl to the remains of the woman known as Mercy on the floor. He knows what she must be thinking… and cannot exactly argue with her impression of the situation.

"Lois," he says numbly as he stands over her. "I think I went too far. She's dead—"

"She's been dead for days, Bruce," Lois assures him. "Lex made sure of that when his scientists pulled her apart for kicks. Uploading her brain into that thing…making her kill for him… that's not natural. And it can't possibly be the real her. Just a vengeful shadow of her former self."

They stand in silence there, their eyes glued to the robot-Mercy's corpse. Then, Bruce asks: "Where's Clark?"

"Upstairs. In the sun, healing," Lois answers simply. "What do we do with her, do you think?"

"We do what your boyfriend would do," he tells her. "We turn her into the authorities…and with a little luck, we'll find a connection to Lex somewhere in her circuits."

This time, she does not even attempt to deny that Clark is her boyfriend, which he supposes is a good sign for both of them. (A near-death experience generally sorts out people's priorities). Instead, she inquires: "Do you think that'll really happen?"

"Do I think that we'll be able to pin this on Lex? No. But we can try."

Lois sighs heavily with frustration. "We've been trying for years now, Bruce. You… me… Clark… when is it going to end?"

"You know the answer to that," Bruce says.

"When he's behind bars?"

"When he's behind bars," Bruce repeats as confirmation. And it will happen. People like Lex… their karma always returns to bite them.

* * *

Bruce has a busy week. The Joker escapes from Arkham only a few days after Mercy's attack, and soon enough, he is engaged in yet another battle for his life.

Somehow, it is almost worse…fighting a totally human adversary. With Mercy, he could unleash every weapon in his arsenal. But with the Joker… if he fights too hard, he might end up a murderer.

Despite his concrete morals, sometimes he wonders if that would even be a bad thing – killing the Joker. Especially in situations like this.

The Joker lured both Bruce and Dick here – to a former toy factory - several minutes ago, and is now attacking them both with a ludicrously large mallet. To some, his behavior might even seem comical. But the lethality of that mallet is very real. And the Joker is far better in combat than he appears to be.

Bruce is especially slow right now, considering that one of his arms is broken thanks to Mercy's literally iron-like grip. Alfred outfitted his costume with a very discreet splint, so that no criminals would be able to detect his injury. But the loss of the use of one limb is still a major disadvantage.

That's why, when he tries to adapt an offensive strike that usually starts with his now-broken left arm, he completely loses his balance and trips. At the sight of his slip-up, Joker releases a sadistic and high-pitched laugh. Bruce watches with horror as the mallet comes down upon him…

But Dick gives Joker a prompt kick in the gut. The hit sends Joker spinning around with the mallet, and amidst the circular motion, the mallet comes back around to hit Dick quite forcefully. To Bruce's horror, the boy is knocked to the ground just as Joker regains his balance.

"Whack-a-bird! My favorite game!" Joker screeches gleefully as he laughs hysterically and lifts his mallet again, this time aiming it toward Dick, who is injured on the ground.

Bruce springs to his feet and jumps into the mallet's path, intending to spare Dick by shielding him with his own body. But when he does this… Bruce finds that no blow comes, and that Joker's laughter has suddenly been silenced.

He glances upwards, only to discover that Joker is completely gone. Bruce is quite startled and confused by this – Joker never departs so unexpectedly without a final joke. Glancing around, he searches for a last surprise of some sort, or for the Joker to pop out unexpectedly to ambush them.

But that's when Bruce sees _him _appear – standing right where Joker vanished.

"I hope you don't mind me lending some help," Superman begins with an award-winning smile. He seems far healthier than he did the last time Bruce saw him, in the Met Gen laboratory. Eyes glowing, posture straight, arms boldly placed at his waist – his appearance is reminiscent of how he looked when he rescued Bruce and Alfred, all those days ago.

But today, his posture is more relaxed, and when Bruce says that his eyes are glowing, he positively means _glowing. _Not just with color, but with what seems to happiness and eagerness. Plus… that smile. It could not be more genuine. When Superman stopped that armored car, his expression seemed strained. That strain seems to have largely disappeared now.

Bruce finds this change in disposition rather disconcerting... He can deal with many things… but not irrationally _optimistic_ people. Never those. In fact, he finds himself already missing the near-hostile attitude that Superman used to show toward him.

Superman… Clark… sidesteps Bruce so that he can lean down and extend his hand to Dick, who is still sprawled on the floor. Dick, meanwhile, just gapes at him with admiration so blatant that Bruce nearly feels embarrassed _for_ him.

"S-Superman?" he gasps.

"Hi," Clark greets. "You took a bit of a tough blow there. Are you alright?"

Dick seems to take Clark's hand rather numbly, and is further stunned when he is pulled so easily to his feet. "I'm…I'm fine! Thank you, Superman! Wow!"

"_Wow_?" Bruce repeats impatiently before regaining his resolve. "Superman—where did you take Joker? We don't have time—"

"Back at Arkham," Clark replies simply.

"You went to _Arkham_?" Bruce demands.

"—and came back that quickly?" Dick adds. "That is so sick!"

"Well, yes. The orderlies were a little surprised to see me, sure, but they took their escaped prisoner all the same."

"It's not 'sick,'" Bruce tells Dick sternly. "He just interrupted _our_ investigation."

"Yeah, and it was _awesome_!" Dick exclaims, still staring at Clark like he is a guardian angel of some sort. "I can't believe I'm meeting Superman!"

"I promise – I wasn't going to interfere," Clark assures Bruce. "But once I saw your partner get hit…I just didn't want either of you to get hurt. Plus, I owed you a favor."

"I didn't ask to be repaid."

"Batman," Dick whispers. "He just took down Joker for us. You could be a little nicer."

Bruce glares at him. "I don't do nice. Go back to the Batmobile. I'll be there shortly."

Indignantly, Dick glances at Superman and then returns his gaze to Bruce. "No way!"

"Now."

"But _he's _here."

"And you've already met him."

"You really should listen to him, Richard. I have to go soon anyway. You won't miss anything," Superman urges him with yet another excessively bright smile.

"You know my _name_?"

"Robin! Back to the car now!" Bruce barks.

Dick appears to be torn for several moments. But then, with a resentful look directed at Bruce, he exits the building – leaving Batman and Superman alone.

"The Joker's not your responsibility – he's mine," Bruce snarls once he is sure that Dick is out of earshot. "You had no right—"

"Why are you so offended by this?" Clark inquires, seemingly genuinely upset by his behavior. "I was just trying to protect you and your partner. Are you really going to criticize me for that?"

"You don't understand," Bruce grumbles.

"Yes, I actually _do_," Clark tells him. "More than you'd expect me to, in fact."

"Then enlighten me with your _wisdom_, Superman," Bruce says sarcastically.

"Fine," Clark says, clenching his jaw. "I know that you need to be Batman. That you consider it your calling."

"Oh, how _insightful_…"

"-So if someone steps in and does your job for you," Clark continues, "or shows you that what you're doing is too dangerous, you feel unfulfilled. And that makes you mad. That makes you defensive."

Bruce stares at him silently for several moments before Clark finally adds: "You and Lois - you're very similar. Knowing her is a lot like knowing you… just with a few obvious differences."

"Alright, fine. You make me - and everyone else on the _planet_ \- feel ineffectual," Bruce mutters. "The last thing I need is for the rest of the city – and my family – to think it too."

"Well, you're _not_ ineffectual," Clark assures him, placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for you – and neither would Lois. You've earned my help a thousand times over. In fact … I was actually hoping that we could be friends. Put those misunderstandings behind us."

"I'm your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend," Bruce states bluntly. "Most people would call that '_awkward_.' And not grounds for friendship."

"It's a small, increasingly strange world," Clark muses. "We might end up working together a lot in the future. I figure that it's better for us to learn to get along _now_ rather than _later_. How about you?"

Clark extends his hand to Bruce this time – to shake. His eyes are expectant.

Despite his words and his recent attitude, Bruce takes it only after a short hesitation. Half because he knows that Lois will have his _head_ if he doesn't. Half because he knows that having Superman as an ally…could be very valuable.

Yes. An alliance definitely seems beneficial. But a _friend_? That might be pushing it.

_TBC..._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SUPERMAN OR BATMAN OR ANY OF DC'S CHARACTERS OR CONCEPTS**

**A/N: I know this is a day late. I totally forgot to post, and I apologize. This is also the second to last chapter. Next, is the epilogue. Then I'll be going on hiatus until December because really I have too much work to write this fic right now. Also, I've been getting into some other things, so if you do see me posting other fics (it's unlikely, but it might happen), don't judge me too hard. I'll do my best to finish/post the third book eventually. Winter break might provide that opportunity. **

**Alright, that's it for now! Please review! **


	69. Book II Epilogue

_EPILOGUE - BOOK TWO_

It is nearly two in the morning when Lex finally prepares to leave his office at Lexcorp. He calls his new secretary - a rather incompetent woman whose name constantly escapes him - intending for her to bring his car around.

Just as he begins to stand, a shadow lunges at him and pins him to the window. Pain stabs into the nerves along Lex's face and chest as he finds them pressed forcefully against the panel of glass.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the culprit behind this attack.

The Batman. The musclebound, flying rodent-crazed detective from Gotham. His eyes are inscrutable under white lenses, but his expression still betrays a clear fury toward Lex.

"How did you get in here?" Lex snarls, his words distorted by his position against the glass. "I'll have your head for this, you _psychopath-_"

"Let me introduce you to my new friend, Lex," another person interrupts, the sound so familiar that it causes hatred to bubble under his skin. "Lex… the Batman. The Batman… Lex. He's got a talent for sneaking into places. It's something that he and I have in common."

Suddenly, that same Batman grabs Lex by the wrists and hoists him off the wall. He is soon facing the source of the other voice.

He (sometimes Lex thinks the pronoun 'it' is more applicable) is recognizable with his unnatural unmarked skin and dark hair. Every part of him in repulsive and pretentious. And though his expression seems rather even as he looks upon Lex, but there is barely contained rage in his piercing, radioactive blue eyes.

Superman.

"Congratulations, Kent," Lex grits out. "You've finally given me the ammunition I need to ruin your reputation. Aiding and abetting the assault of a prestigious Metropolis citizen-"

"Rest assured, you'll never be able to prove that I'm was here," Superman says. "Batman has knocked out your surveillance devices."

"And Superman has fried your analog backups," the Batman growls in Lex's ear, the tone sending a chill down Lex's spine. "And besides, there are worse things than this sort of treatment. After all, you didn't get dragged into a basement and nearly _tortured_ to death."

Lex raises an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile on his features as he looks at Superman. But he feigns ignorance nonetheless.

"Oh dear," he intones. "Did something happen?"

"Mercy failed, Lex. She's been deactivated. And as you can see, I'm still standing proudly against you."

"Mercy?" Lex chuckles. "I've never heard of her."

"Drop the pretense, you arrogant megalomaniac," Batman snarls as he _literally_ twists Lex's arm behind his back. Lex resists the urge to yell in response to the biting pain. "Nobody's listening except us."

Finally, Lex allows his own facade to fade away, and a semblance of disappointment twists his features. "It's a shame, really. So much work and effort on Dr. Vale's part… and Mercy's sacrifice… all for nothing. They all believed so fully in ending the alien threat."

Superman's gaze hardens even more. "You played them for fools. You _killed_ Mercy Graves to get to me."

"And it would have been worthwhile if you had died."

"Oh yeah, Lex?" Superman challenges. "And what if Lois had died along with me?"

For several seconds, Lex simply gapes at Superman, attempting to decipher his words. Superman couldn't possibly be threatening Lois, could he? Though, frankly, Lex would not exactly be surprised. He never doubted Superman's selfishness, so it is logical to assume that he would endanger Lois to save his own life. He is targeting one of the few things that Lex cares about...

"Are you threatening her, Kent? Well, I suppose this is where your true colors shine through-"

"I'm not _threatening_ her, you snake. If anything, you did - because Mercy targeted us both. She not only brutally attacked and injured me, but did so to Lois as well. And she hoped, after killing me with Kryptonite poisoning, to tear Lois _limb from limb_."

"She would never do that," Lex argues. "She was on my payroll. And she knew what Lois meant to me-"

"I think you underestimate just how much people can _hate_ you - hate you more than they love money. You killed Mercy's body to place her consciousness into an unfeeling machine. And though she harbored negative feelings toward Lois and me, she resented you most of all. She planned to humiliate you publicly… and then tell you that she murdered the one woman you've ever cared about."

"She planned to kill you too, after everything," the Batman adds. "And you certainly gave her the power to do it. The irony would have been astounding… you, murderer extraordinaire, killed by his own killing machine."

Lex has nothing to say. He had not calculated this outcome. Was Mercy really planning to betray him the whole time? Why couldn't he have foreseen it?

"Most of the problems I've ever faced… you've been the cause. Your _manipulation_ has been the cause. If you hadn't told Mercy so damn much about Lois and me, or hadn't altered the prosthetics in the first place, Lois wouldn't have been placed in such terrible danger. If it wasn't for your _stupid_ claims that I was putting Lois and danger…" Superman exhales sharply in exasperation. "Not to mention that your meddling with the crystal led to Zod. And you've always sought to turn the public against me."

"The murder of Graham Templeton. The volunteers mutilated in those human experiments. That was you too," Batman grits out.

"Is there a point to these _useless_ accusations?" Lex asks impatiently. Lex is well aware of his own deeds. And if they caused Superman anguish, they were well worth it.

"Why?" Superman demands. "Why do you go to these lengths? Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because you _fool_ everyone!" Lex shouts suddenly, his words pouring out of him as profusely as his rage. "_Me_, the manipulator? Hilarious. You wrote the book in that field. Somehow, you've tricked the entire world into thinking you're a saint. You made them forget that you could burn them all with a _look_ or freeze them to death with a _breath_. You hide under an air of humility and humanity as you defend their antiquated ideals, and why? All to gain worship. All to gain admiration. But you change _nothing_ with what you do. You perpetuate chaos for the sake of your vanity. To feel _superior_ to us. You, so stooped in your oppressive ethics and massive power, fly above us like a god, proving us all worthless and ineffectual. Just with your name - Superman - you have relegated us to eternal inferiority, no matter what we strive to be or accomplish.

"So I resolved that you will _not_ be better than me. Even if you've fooled _her_, I am still more intelligent than you are. And one day, when you're in your grave, I'll prove that. Man and science killed God for a reason - we didn't ask for his second coming through you."

For a moment, Superman looks taken aback as he considers Lex's words. And Lex sincerely hopes that the alien is doubting his role on Earth - questioning the good he is claiming to accomplish with his presence.

But suddenly, Batman snorts. "A compelling speech, Lex. But the real reason - the one you're denying to yourself - it's very obvious."

Lex glares at him from the corner of his eye. "I seriously doubt your stupidity can fathom _anything_ about me."

"I'm a detective," Batman asserts calmly. "And given what I _detect_, you don't hate Superman because he's some form of 'oppressive god.' You hate him because he has more power than you can ever dream of possessing. And yet… he never even _considers_ taking control of others. And that's all you've ever cared about, isn't it? Ever since you had your future decided for you by a rich, abusive daddy who never gave two damns about you, despite how much of a genius you claimed to be - all you've ever wanted is _complete _control over your life. And it enrages you to see someone with the power to control _everything_, but never seizes it. The bottom line: you're jealous. Jealous of his power, his girlfriend, his upbringing, his contentedness - because they are things that you can never have for yourself."

"Jealousy is for children. My crusade against him is _noble_ \- and you know nothing about me," Lex shrieks defensively.

"Body language tells all, Lex," Batman replies snarkily.

"And here's my bottom line, Lex," Superman says, his eyes flaring red with intimidating anger. "The next time you plot against me… you'll think twice. Because _I_ may have a reputation to protect..."

"But I don't," Batman snarls into Lex's ear.

"And he'll come for you."

"You...You'd never-" Lex sputters. "Neither of you kill. It's not your style."

The Batman almost smirks. "I may not kill… but I can make people wish that I do. Especially in your case, Luthor. Never underestimate the power of broken bones. Especially if they're in mass quantities.."

"You hurt Lois with your idiotic plans to get to me," Superman snaps. "So if you had one millionth of the brain you claim to have, you'd keep your mouth shut about my weaknesses. Batman may not be able to stop the next Mercy.

"And for the record…" Superman continues, "You won't manipulate me again. That I promise."

Lex grins almost grotesquely. "You make it too easy."

"Not anymore. One day soon, you're going to pay for what you've done. That's another promise."

And then, with a heavy breeze that rips through the entire office, Lex finds himself alone. Both the Batman and the Superman have disappeared.

"You'll never pin me to what happened!" Lex yells to the empty room. "There's not a chance!"

* * *

Rebuilding is difficult. It took Clark months to repair Metropolis after Mongul's attack – fixing buildings and subways and other utilities as Superman. But if he compares that to the process of rebuilding his relationship with Lois…well that's simple. There simply is _no_ comparison.

The emotional toll was significant throughout it all…but even just _agreeing_ to rebuild was difficult. Clark remembers how much they struggled to adjust to what they had been through. They both knew that their relationship would never be the same as it was… and that scared them.

But today Clark knows that everything happens for a reason. And the break-up, though painful, allowed them to move forward all the stronger.

They rekindled that relationship in the middle of Lois's favorite café, a few days before Bruce and Clark confronted Lex.

Clark was the first to speak, asking the question that had been weighing on their minds ever since they admitted to still being in love with one another.

"Where do we go from here, Lois?"

Thus, he sat staring at her with hopeful eyes, his hot chocolate untouched in front of him. She, meanwhile, took tentative sips of her coffee, which had been placed before her several minutes ago by a waitress.

He had brought her flowers – ones that he had picked from Amazon Rainforest, no less. They were beautiful… exotic. Hundreds of colorful shades. But even upon picking them, he knew she wouldn't care for them very much – she cannot be bribed to see past his faults, especially with cliché gifts. But he had figured that he should try _something_ to express his regret.

As he had expected, she had hardly looked at them. She had just placed them beside her in the seat of their booth.

Their problems are more than flowers can solve.

"We go back to square one," Lois thus responded finally, after swallowing yet another sip.

"Square one?" Clark repeated with confusion. "Can you be more specific?"

"You said it yourself. We have a communication problem. Or a problem accepting each other's role in the grand scheme of things. Either way, the last time we were together… I think we moved too quickly."

She paused and looked up at Clark, perhaps expecting him to argue with her. But he did not. Instead, he took his first gulp of hot chocolate before saying, "Go on."

Lois nodded, seeming encouraged by his willingness to listen to her. Her expression was even – determined… like this was something that she had contemplated quite a bit.

"Overall…we're really great at sharing our insecurities about _ourselves_," she explained, leaning toward him like they were sharing a secret. But they were not. This was her laying her doubts bare for him, and the gravity of those doubts was equal to any secret. "But when it comes to insecurities about _each other_…about our relationship and what it means… we're really terrible at dealing with those. I mean… you know what I'm talking about, right?"

Yes. He did.

Clark thought back to all the times when he had considered marriage to her, or had even mentioned it casually. But in each instance, she had reacted lukewarmly to the idea. So he would always drop the subject, feeling oddly dejected. Sometimes he would even be plagued by doubts – fears that she cared about him, but not enough to truly commit. That she had not planned on _really_ keeping him around.

Here he realized that his fears of the relationship being doomed had formed long before Zod or Lex interfered.

And though he was merely lost in quiet thought, Lois took his silence as an indication of confusion. So she tried to clarify further.

"For example…" She sighs, preparing to admit something serious… so Clark listens intently. "I used to fear that, one day, you'd realize that I was holding you back. Holding you back from being Superman. From learning about Krypton. From being with women far more interesting or beautiful than me."

"Lois, that's not—"

"But then it sorta ended up coming _true_," she reminded him bitterly. "When we broke up - when you said that you had a destiny to follow and that I couldn't be part of it. It was a similar excuse to the one you gave Lana all those years ago… and I couldn't stand it. It was my fear made real. And it broke my heart."

Her eyes locked with his. "I'm sure you had similar fears," she then remarked. "I don't know what they were about, exactly. The idea of me leaving you was unimaginable to me, so I couldn't even consider how you felt. And that was our problem – we couldn't understand each other, and we never talked about it."

"I was afraid that deep down, you still cared for Lex," Clark told her suddenly, feeling obligated to share such a thing because she had just revealed something similar. "They say that there's such a narrow line between love and hate… and I thought that you hated him so _passionately_ because you once loved him a lot. A part of me worried that you would forgive him one day. And that I'd be forgotten."

Lois closed her eyes with weariness. "And if we had _talked_ about that, I could have told you that I have _never_ loved Lex. He was a distraction, even when I was dating him. Realizing that he's a monster came later, sure, but I don't have any sort of hidden love for him, even if he's desperate to find it in me."

"I _know_ that it was irrational," Clark mutters. "But we didn't talk about it. So I couldn't be sure."

"If we _had_ talked about it, or your fear of me dying, we could have come to understand each other's perspectives. And that could have changed what happened between us."

"And if you had talked to me about _your_ fear, I never would have broken up with you the way I did. I would have told you the truth. I only worded things that way to make it seem like _I_ was the problem, instead of making you sound fragile—"

"If you had told me the truth," Lois interrupted, "We wouldn't have broken up at all. Because I would have made you realize that Lex manipulated you."

Clark casted his eyes downwards, ashamed of how easily his strings had been pulled. Lex's points were not illogical, of course. Clark's life with Lois will always be dangerous. But those points had placed value in all of the wrong things. An empty life – a life of loneliness - is not a life worth living. And sometimes, sacrifices must be made so that people can achieve their happiest, best selves – even if it's only for a short time. Even if being happy means dying earlier.

He is Superman to give people _every_ _opportunity_ to live contented lives, even if he can't rescue everyone from death or loss of loved ones. The same ambitions should exist for his own life – he knows that now.

"Our relationship sped forward at breakneck speeds," she told him. "Which wasn't a smart thing for us. We had been dishonest with each other for a _long_ time before that, and sure, we thought we resolved our issues that first night together…but when two people lie to each other for so long… how do we ever stop being afraid that we're _still_ lying to each other?"

"And that's where doubts come in," Clark mused quietly.

"Exactly."

After that, they both sat in silent contemplation. Until Clark interrupted the quietude yet again, that is.

"So…" he began, reaching out for her hands. "What does square one look like?"

It took her a second to reciprocate, and Clark nearly died in those moments of hesitation. But nonetheless, Lois laced her fingers in between his, squeezing his hand tightly. "Square one is going back to dating."

"Dating?"

"Yup," she confirmed for him almost flippantly. "Honest-to-God dates where we talk about our interests and our feelings. I know we _used_ to spend time together like that _before_ we dated…"

Clark thought back to the times before she knew the truth. To when he had been still hopelessly pining for her, reveling in every stolen moment they spent together working on articles or grabbing a quick meal or even just talking on the way to work.

"But obviously," she continues, "we were keeping secrets even then. So…if you agree to be honest… this will be the first time that we start something and talk _completely_ genuinely."

Grinning, Clark replied, "I can do dates."

* * *

So, from that point forward, they have moved slower. Not incredibly slow, but slow enough for them to work out every little issue that got shoved aside last time, when their relationship had sped forward like a racecar.

They follow the rules. Whenever fear or other emotions overwhelm them, they talk about it. And generally, they just talk about _everything_ at every opportunity. Politics, new songs, recent movie releases, interesting books – the works. And…there's always some discussion of recent rescues by Superman, or articles to which they have been assigned.

For a while, they don't even kiss. Not since the one in that basement. They hold hands, definitely. They do that all the time. But kissing… is something that they hold off for a while.

That boundary is broken when Lois apparently decides that she can't take it anymore. They are sitting in her apartment at the time, watching television like they usually do on Sunday nights. A half hour into a rom-com and Lois suddenly yells: "Oh for Christ's sake, Smallville…I said I wanted to take it slow! I didn't say that I wanted to join a _nunnery_."

"What do you mean?" Clark asks oh-so-intelligently.

"I mean," she says, "that it's okay to kiss me. It's been weeks."

"Oh!" Clark exclaims, his cheeks warming with embarrassment. "Well…uh... can I kiss you right now?"

She merely shoots him a look. And soon enough, he is leading in, lightly grasping her cheeks. Their lips meet…and wave of feeling seems to crash down upon him, making him feel as though he is flying. And it is not the sort of flight that he normally experiences. It is flight in way that, normally, even he cannot imagine. He cannot imagine it unless he is kissing her, that is.

He doesn't ask to move back in with her – he leaves it up to her to make the first move. It takes maybe four months of dinners and coffee breaks and article work with one another, but eventually, she does it. She makes the offer.

Clark tries to stay calm when he accepts. Tries to do it casually. But internally, he celebrates. And externally… the way he pulls her close and kisses her on the spot gives his true emotions away.

After they start living together again, Clark finds everything about their apartment remarkably beautiful (mostly because he took it for granted before). There's something so special about seeing their clothes side-by-side in the closet, or his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom countertop, or the Superman costume hidden under the bed that they share.

His time in the fortress was so cold and bursting with _nothingness_. In fact, he hardly ever bothered to sleep while lived there. But he looks forward to sleeping beside her… to her warmth and the simple feeling of her in his arms.

With her, he finds normalcy. With her, he is not a superhero. He is just a person. Just a guy. Just _hers_.

But unlike during their first go at love, which was mostly just peace and euphoria, Lois and Clark argue now. Quite often, actually. They argue about how much danger they put themselves in or about how careful they should be with Clark's secret identity. Other times, it's issues as silly as getting a dog (Clark desperately wants one, Lois doesn't), or whether or not they should keep using the garbage disposal (Clark thinks it's bad for the environment, but Lois can't shake the habit), or even Lois's tendency to eat the dinner ingredients before he actually cooks them into something.

But instead of seeing these conflicts as a sign of dysfunction, he considers it a sign of health. This time, they acknowledge their problems and address them head-on.

And usually, they resolve them too.

And sure, there are several times when he has to sleep on the couch. But sometimes… they make use of _more_ than words. Anger…irritation… all gets channeled into…_other things_. There are feverish kisses that evolve into something more, and then, usually by the time it's over, they are both much calmer and far too tired to feel resentment.

With every argument, their chances of misunderstandings diminish. And frankly, if having arguments is the cost of eliminating misunderstandings, he is okay with that.

Of course, there is still _more_ to them as a couple than just their problems. A lot more. There are still so many nights when they go flying and kiss in that sacred space between the city and the stars. A space that is decidedly theirs, somewhere between the Earth-born and the Alien.

There's the way that they hold each other throughout the night, bodies pressed together and holding hands with their fingers intertwined. There are the times that they sprawl out on the couch, comfortably watching television together. In some instances, she is held in his arms as he holds a book in front of them both, reading it together. Recently, she has taken to blasting her favorite music and forcing Clark to dance with her. Whenever such a thing occurs, he always begs for a slow song instead. Those embarrass him far less because, to slow songs… he can just sway.

(He's convinced that he's a terrible dancer, even if she thinks that he's very "graceful.")

"I mean, whenever you fly, you have your toes pointed like a ballerina," Lois laughs one night after a particular ridiculous attempt at dancing between the two of them. "In another life, you could have very well been the best ballerina in the world."

"Really?" he challenges with a smirk. She is lying on the couch, and soon enough, he is promptly squeezed beside her. He presses a kiss to her nose. "And would this alternate version of Lois Lane attend my shows regularly?"

"The chance to see you dancing around in a unitard? Christ, she wouldn't miss it for the _world_…"

Laughing, he leans down, pressing his lips to hers as she wrapped her arms around him. Their grip on each other continues to tighten, deepening the kiss as much as they possibly can.

"Though I will admit, you kinda wear a unitard already," she adds in a muffled voice, speaking against his mouth. "Tights and all."

He pulls away and indignantly tells her, "They're _not_ tights."

"Whatever you say, Smallville."

* * *

They get the notification late at night. Not that Clark is sleeping – a good chunk of the Daily Planet staff is waiting around, ready to report on the information that is sure to arrive soon. Local news or not, it's big. And they're expected to alter their hours for big news.

Clark is the one waiting in his seat, his ear pressed against a phone that has been on hold with his source for hours. Meanwhile, as he sits, Lois paces around him impatiently, fiddling with her hands. Her high heels make rhythmic, fast-paced clatters on the floor tiles.

Suddenly, someone picks up on the other line, and Clark stiffens in anticipation of what he is about to learn. Lois notices his change in posture and freezes, her anxious gaze fixated on him. He knows what she wants to hear. He knows what _he_ wants to hear as well. But above all, as he listens to the words of the election official, his fingers are crossed to prevent the possibility of a single, unfathomable outcome…

An outcome that, he soon discovers, has already come to pass.

Alexander "Lex" Luthor, CEO of Lexcorp, is now Metropolis's new mayor.

Lois reads his furious expression before he can even relay the information to her. She doesn't say anything at first – just clenches her jaw and stalks out of Clark's office. In fact, if he didn't know her better, he would say that she is hardly upset – her expression is rather even. But he _does_ know her better.

There are two door slams. Once when she leaves Clark's presence, and another time when she enters the break room.

Hanging up the phone, Clark jumps out of his chair and follows her there, arriving just in time to see her throw her ceramic mug across the room. It sails… then collides with the white cabinets before shattering into a million jagged shards, which disperse across the floor.

Next comes her anguished yell – a scream of absolute frustration and disbelief, marked by the motion of Lois grabbing at her head. In fact, she seems to be fulfilling that cliché of "pulling out one's hair." But in this case, he thinks it might be justified.

"Lois…" Clark says, closing the door behind himself and venturing farther into the room. Some of their co-workers are probably eavesdropping, reveling in the drama. But he can't find it within himself to care.

"HOW COULD THEY ALL FALL FOR HIS _BULLSHIT_?" Lois demands in her loudest, most furious voice. "MAYOR? THEY MADE HIM _MAYOR_? WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE THEY THINKING?"

"Lois, I don't know. I don't know," Clark assures her, approaching her with his arms outstretched. She slides into them rather angrily. Soon enough, she is clutching his body like it is an anchor, and she is a capsizing ship. But he doesn't mind. Because right now, the feeling of her in his arms… that's one of the only things that prevents _him_ from screaming and throwing objects. And if he partakes in that sort of behavior… with his powers, the results would be far more catastrophic.

He presses his mouth against the crown of her head, and she curls further into him.

"Qurac… Zod… Mercy… those were _his_ fault, Clark… and they put him in charge of the goddamn city."

"But only we know that, Lo. That's the problem."

There was no evidence Lex had contributed to the design of Mercy's robot exoskeleton – with all the damage it sustained, it was barely identifiable as the product of the Waynetech prosthetic designs. The kryptonite used to power her, meanwhile, was registered as stolen, so Lex could not be held accountable for that. And most gruesomely, several weeks ago, Dr. Vale had been found in a hotel room with a bullet in his brain. Suicide, according to the reports, but Lois and Clark never believed that for a second.

Like always, Lex's reputation seems squeaky clean to the public eye. Which is why he swept the election against the obviously shady former-mayor Berkowitz.

Even with Lois and Clark's testimony about their kidnapping (yes, they reported on their experience, explaining how Mercy intended to kill them for Lex's sake), the public would not budge in its conviction to elect Lex.

There was further evidence to which Lois desperately clung – the files that she lifted from Vale's computers. The ones for the weaponized prosthetics. And logically, the connection to Lex was clear. Mercy worked for Lex. Mercy was in contact with Vale. Vale perfected the prosthetics. Mercy became their first full user.

No matter what Lois and Clark wrote in their articles, Lex denied their claims fully, saying that Mercy and Vale were their own agents – that they planned to kill reporters Clark Kent and Lois Lane of their own accord, with no influence from Lex. They had taken Waynetech's prosthetics and weaponized them. And though it seemed obviously suspicious that there were no records to be found on the woman that worked as Lex's assistant for several years before she became an attempted murderer (who else could pay to wipe a record but Lex?), it was not enough to convince the public of his guilt.

So now he is the mayor of their fair city. And Clark cannot imagine what tomorrow brings for Superman because of that.

But he doesn't say that. Instead, as he practically rocks her in his arms, he tells her, "We'll get him, Lois. He has to slip up sometime. We'll be patient. The time will be right eventually."

* * *

Several weeks later, while Superman is busy outsmarting a high-voltage super-villainess named Livewire, something strange is happening at the Fortress of Solitude.

Or more likely…in the waters around the Fortress of Solitude.

Many months ago, several portals were accidentally opened in the Arctic. Portals to an alien dimension known as the Phantom Zone. Without Clark Kent's knowledge, they were open for several hours…and in all that time, it was largely believed that only one prisoner of that dimension had escaped.

But that belief was wrong.

One of the portals had opened over the ocean surrounding the Fortress's glacier. So when something actually _did_ pass through the door…it immediately fell into the expanse of the sea…plummeting to the depths. Clark never bothered to look there. That was his mistake. And the Fortress's.

The escapee was not just a living person, exactly, which is why the Fortress did not detect its exit. It was a great metal box – the size of a large truck, made of a metal previously unknown to Earth. It was sealed so tight that, even as it sunk, no water poured inside it to suffocate its living contents.

Yes, the contents within it were living. Are still living. The being is completely restrained, but still waiting. Bloodthirsty. Hungry for destruction.

Though the being cannot form complex thoughts, it is a well-known fact that all prisons crumble eventually. The being has been so patient…

It is then that something begins lifting the prison out of the depths.

There is a boat in the water, with a crane. It continues to lift the prison-box until it has been suspended in the air. From there, it is lowered carefully onto the deck of the ship.

A deck with a logo on its side. A deck belonging to a ship that has been monitoring this area for months, ever since the fortress was built. A ship that belongs to the company whose logo is written on the boat's side.

Lexcorp.

"We found something, Mr. Luthor," the creature, trapped within the confines of the box, hears a voice saying. The words do not make sense to it. Its brain is hardly advanced enough to understand. All it knows is that something _alive_ is outside, and it must _kill_ it.

"Radar picked it up. It was a bit of a job fishing it out of the ocean… but we got it."

Meanwhile, Livewire is loaded into a police car, heading off toward a super-max prison. And Clark Kent goes home to Lois Lane, feeling distinctly like, finally, everything is right in the world.

For the current moment, that is.

But all prisons crumble eventually.

**END OF BOOK TWO**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS/CONCEPTS, ALL RIGHTS TO DC COMICS ETC**

**A/N: aaaaaand there's the end of book two! See, a happy ending (or is it? DUN DUN DUN)! Unfortunately now I'm going on hiatus until December. I have so much work I won't have time for any free time at all this weekend so...yikes...**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review telling me your thoughts about this book. I love reviews throughout, of course, but I always like to hear people's final thoughts and comments. You might just motivate me to finish that third book sooner rather than later ;) **

**Though given that hint at the end, some of you might be able to guess what's coming...**

**Anyway, once again, REVIEW! If you liked it, favorite please. And the best way for y'all to keep track of when I post is again is by following so feel free to do that! **

**See you all soon! Thanks for reading! If you have any questions or comments for me besides reviews, the easiest way to contact me is through my tumblr (url is supermah). I've been a little too busy to answer questions lately but in sparse moments of free time I respond. **

**(P.S. I might post some bonus content at some point but idk when or where... we'll see). **


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